


Firsts

by irithyll



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Ada who?, CVX doesn't happen, Claire is the coolest mom, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Happily Ever After, Leon is a huge dork, Post-Resident Evil 2, Romance, Sherry deserves to be happy, What-If, a dyfunctionally happy family, don't expect anything but cheese and fluff here, make it canon capcom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2019-10-30 13:30:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17829476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irithyll/pseuds/irithyll
Summary: Claire is determined to show Sherry all the things she's missed out on in life and Leon finds that he, too, has a lot to learn.A collection of series of events that might have happened to our favorite dysfunctionally happy, impromptu family post-RE2make's "true" ending.





	1. Fireworks

“You've _never_ seen fireworks before?” The tone in her voice was incredulous, pitch having lifted just slightly as she gave the younger girl a wide-eyed look.

Sherry rolled her shoulders in a shrug, her expression unimpressed. She honestly didn't see what the big deal was and Claire openly balked--she almost couldn't comprehend the fact that a twelve-year-old American girl had never seen fireworks before.

The dark-haired woman shook her head slowly, eyes briefly held closed in an exasperated expression. “Well, that just won't do. We're gonna have to fix that.”

With her hands placed on her hips, Claire leaned forward, lowering her face to Sherry's eye level. “You have _no_ idea what you're missing.” She tapped a finger on Sherry's nose, eliciting a laugh from the girl.

“Whatever you say, Claire.” Her sentence was punctuated by a giggle, and Claire pursed her lips, pointing a finger at Sherry in a light-hearted, mocking attempt at offense. “‘ _Whatever_?’ Who taught you that word, young lady?”

“It definitely wasn't me.” Leon spoke from across the room, stretched out on the worn couch with his palms raised into the air in an attempt to claim innocence.

Sherry smiled wide and returned Claire's pointing with a finger of her own. “Yeah, actually...I think it was _you_ who taught me it, Claire!”

Claire gasped theatrically, placing a hand to her chest. “ _Me_? I would _never_ corrupt the youth with such foul language!” Her expression twisted to one of feigned surprise, mouth held open in horror as if she were somehow appalled by the suggestion.

Leon couldn’t help but to laugh quietly to himself. Though he had met plenty of people in his lifetime, he had to admit that he had never encountered anyone quite like Claire in the past. Her carefree nature was a welcome relief in a time as trying as the apparent zombie apocalypse, though he had quickly learned that her demeanor was a front. At her core, Claire was a passionate woman with an altruistic nature, as evidenced by her allegiance to Sherry’s survival, and he respected that about her. She stayed true to her values even when faced with potential death. Not many people could say the same about themselves.

_Not Ada_. He thought, a bitter taste having surfaced in his mouth at the recollection of her pistol pointed square at his chest. The betrayal still stung, each syllable of her name burning like pouring alcohol into an open wound. He didn’t hate her, no...it just _hurt_.

It had been just under two weeks since their escape from Raccoon City. Their ragtag group had been motel hopping as they made their way across the state without any real destination in mind. The lack of planning made Leon anxious, but Claire had reassured him time and again that things would turn out alright in the end. _“Relax, Leon. Life has a way of working itself out.”_ She had insisted with a wink. _“Trust me. We’ll figure it out along the way.”_

Her confidence in the statement managed to placate him for the time being. He had felt the knots in his stomach loosen when she gave him a wide smile, further reiterating her assuredness. Prior to the outbreak, Leon had led a fairly typical suburban life, and the sudden chaos had taken him off guard, whereas Claire seemed to adjust to it almost seamlessly. He wondered what sort of life the woman had led up until this point to be resilient.

Leon watched her as she excitedly described New Year’s Eve tradition to Sherry. Claire gestured with her hands, clasping them together and then pulling them apart in an attempt to illustrate the burst of fireworks.

“Right at midnight!” She explained, pausing her gesticulation to tease the girl again. “But, then again...you apparently can't even stay up past ten, so you'd probably miss it anyway.”

Sherry huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “We'll see about that on January 1st! I'll be _thirteen_ by then.”

The girl took to Claire's good-natured teasing well. It had begun to pull her out of her shell, and Leon felt a strange sense of pride watching her personality surface. Though it was unwarranted, he bore a lot of guilt for what Sherry's parents had done to her, and he couldn't even begin to fathom the toll it would take on the child version of himself.

“Tell her how great fireworks are, Leon.” Claire insisted, catching him on the spot. 

"They're pretty nice to look at…” He put his hands up once again, both apologizing and surrendering to Claire’s potential wrath before his next statement, “ _But_ they can be dangerous and kids shouldn't play with them without a responsible adult nearby to supervise.”

Claire rolled her eyes. It was _such_ a Leon thing to say. He was twenty on the outside and paranoid, first time father of a frail toddler on the inside. “Yes, that's true, but I'm a _very_ responsible adult who just _safely_ took down more monsters than probably anyone _ever_ , so she doesn't have to worry.”

Leon sighed and the two girls laughed, the sound of their giggling warming something deep in his chest.

* * *

That night, Claire had somehow returned with a bizarre combination of sandwiches and sparklers. Leon wasn't even surprised by it. In fact, he suspected she probably rigged them herself with some backwoods Boy Scout tactics Chris had taught her, knowing Claire and her spontaneity. He wasn't sure why he didn't see it coming to begin with.

He watched the sway of her ponytail as she led them into the woods behind the motel, the wind having picked up loose tendrils of her hair and whipped them about her face. It was a stark contrast to the milk white of her skin, and he took note of the flush that had crept along her cheeks from the nip of the early October air. _She’s cute_ , he thought, with those blue-grey eyes that he suspected have never once shown a glimpse of fear because, really, did Claire Redfield even _know_ what fear was?

She looked over at him with a soft, sideways smile and he wondered if “cute” was an understatement.

_This is pretty wrong_ , he told himself, but it felt so _damn_ right, too. He found a sense of peace while aimlessly wandering through the woods with Claire and Sherry, despite having no plan in mind, a situation he would ordinarily hate to find himself in. Though he had only known her for a few days, Leon felt strangely comfortable in Claire’s presence, as if they were old childhood friends who had been reunited. It was _different_ than the way Ada made him feel. Ada had made him feel like a child playing dress up in his father’s uniform.

Claire shot him a bright grin and a wink as they moved into a clearing in the woods, and he decided that, yeah, _cute_ probably was an understatement. Claire was something special, he decided, as he watched her kneel down in front of Sherry, ruffling her hair before handing her the sparkler. He decided she definitely wasn't like any woman he had ever met while her brows furrowed together in concentration as she struck a match, lighting the sparkler. He figured maybe she was even _pretty_ as the glow of the bright light lit up her features, highlighting all the soft curves of her face and the warm look in her eyes as she observed the expression of wonder that made its way onto Sherry's face as the sparkler burst into light.

He didn’t know if Claire was the kind of woman who wanted to be called _pretty_ , but that was probably what she was.

As he sat, watching Sherry cavort about with sprinkler in hand under Claire’s guidance, he found that the heat and glow of the sparks rivaled the hearth in his heart.

* * *

 Later, with Sherry safely tucked into bed, Leon found Claire in the small motel bathroom, working her hair into a loose braid for sleep. She was watching herself intently in the mirror, long fingers deftly working the dark pieces of her hair over her shoulder. Leon didn’t know why he found it so fascinating, but he found it difficult to look away.

She caught his stare and met it with her own kind expression, lips curled into a small smile.

“I told you I wouldn’t burn the woods down.” She teased and Leon laughed, shifting his feet nervously.

He didn’t know when Claire started to make him anxious, but being in such close proximity with her made his heart race.

“That was nice of you to do.” He finally said, eyes searching for anything to study but her face.

A sense of embarrassment had overcome him, his throat dry and skin stinging, a feeling he hadn’t experienced since his first crush in high school. Leon silently prayed Claire didn’t know.

“She’s missed out on a lot of the little things in life.” Her despondent tone instilled misery in him, too. It didn’t suit her to seem so sad. Claire had always been so lively since the moment he met her.

“But,” She continued, prodding him softly on the shoulder, “We can help her make up for it.”

Leon didn’t know what changed in that moment, but he felt his blood buzzing beneath his skin. He liked the little wisps of hair that framed her face and the way her smile lit up everything in that dingy little bathroom. He appreciated that they were relatively close in height, that he didn’t have to look _too_ far down to find her bright eyes. He enjoyed her corny jokes and the way that she made him laugh with such seemingly little effort in such a tough time.

Leon coughed.

_Do I have a crush on Claire Redfield?_

And then she stepped forward, closing the distance between the two of them almost entirely. He wondered if she could hear his heart slamming against his chest as she leaned forward, her chin nearly brushing against his shoulder. He wondered if she felt him shudder when her lips came close, soft skin lightly grazing against the outer shell of his ear as she whispered low and soft in his ear, “You know, I can show you fireworks, too.”

He wondered if she heard him gasp when her mouth found his and if she watched his eyes close while his world exploded into bursts of light, sparkles of red and white filling the dark void behind his eyelids. Leon made a quiet sound in his throat and he inched forward, filling the final millimeters of distance between the two of them with his body as he reached up to cup her face in his hands. Her skin was softer than he had ever imagined, and he allowed his hand to trail behind her head, fingertips tangling themselves in the hair at the nape of her neck.

Leon kissed her like his life depended on it, every bit of frustration that had accumulated in the past couple of weeks melting away with the press of her tongue and the careful nips at his lower lip. He found the dip of her waist and pulled her firmly against his chest, and he grinned at the squeak of surprise that escaped her.

When he pulled away, Leon decided he liked the way she looked, lips flushed, hair disheveled, and her eyes glazed over with something he hadn’t seen on her before.

“You’re right.” He said, voice hoarse and deep. “I’ve never seen fireworks like those before.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know what I'm doing with this...just a bunch of cheesy first time experiences with Sherry and Leon fueled by popular demand for Leon/Claire because you can never have too much sap, right?


	2. Funeral

Leon found her at the edge of the wood line some distance off the highway, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Tendrils of hair that had escaped her ponytail clung to her face and she winced, taking in a deep breath despite the stitch in her side. Dark soil caked her palms, her pale skin stained with the earth.

“What are you doing?” He couldn’t, for the life of him, guess why Claire was digging through the dirt with her bare hands. In response, she flashed him a crooked smile.

“Burying Sherry’s parents.” She said it matter-of-factly, as if her intentions were obvious. He gave her a bewildered look, brows furrowed together and lips shifting sideways as he studied her. She held his stare, confident in her explanation.

Sherry was sitting beside her, legs crossed as she laid an arrangement of flowers out on the undisturbed ground beside Claire’s improvisatory grave sites. She looked up at Leon and nodded emphatically, concurring with the woman’s clarification.

Leon wasn’t sure how to describe the scene, but he knew something wasn’t right about it.

“Claire...” He wondered if she had possibly lost her mind. It’s not like he would have thought less of her if she had. They’d been through a seriously bizarre ordeal together and most people might have snapped under the pressure. In fact, he was a little surprised that they hadn’t yet. Claire had seemed particularly well-adjusted, so it was only a matter of time before she cracked, he figured.

He wanted to say a thousand things, but with Sherry as their audience, he felt compelled to hold his tongue. _Claire, what the hell?_ He wanted to say. _Claire, there are no bodies!_ _That’s the whole point of a funeral, isn’t it? The body?_

Leon surprised himself with the morbid thought. Claire seemed unperturbed by his reaction and had returned to her work, this time kneeling down on the ground to scoop the loose dirt away in fistfuls.

“Do you want to help me pick out flowers, Leon?” Sherry asked, tilting her head to the side. Claire paused her shoveling to shoot him a hard look, a nonverbal _don’t-you-dare-say-no_ that reminded him of his mother. He nodded and shuffled towards the pair, a little reluctant.

“I think my mom would have liked this one.” The girl held up a stem that contained a cluster of small purple flowers that grew along its length. He could only assume she had picked them herself.

“That one is pretty.” He said, voice soft. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure what to say. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure that he could handle the impromptu funeral. It was heartbreaking to watch.

Sherry smiled and nodded, setting it aside from the others. She continued to pick up the other flowers one by one, holding them between her thumb and forefinger briefly to scrutinize them. As she systematically worked through each one, she appeared to grow progressively more frustrated.

“Hey, Leon?” She asked with a sigh. “What kind of flowers do boys like?”

He had been idly kicking around a piece of gravel to keep himself distracted and was forced to pause his assault on the rock.

“Well…” Leon struggled to muster a reply. He looked over at Claire, who had finished her digging and was now seated beside Sherry, slightly flushed in the face. Even with the smudge of dirt across her nose and her messy hair, she managed to make his heart skip a beat. It winded him a little.

“Boys like pretty things too.” He advised, eyes locked with Claire’s. She beamed at him and it struck him square in the chest.

Sherry accepted the answer. She let out a little gasp and held up a finger, rifling through the flowers with her other hand. The girl produced a wild daisy, its yellow center surrounded by messy clusters of white petals. “What about this one?” She tilted her head to the side.

Leon nodded, “That one looks good.”

Satisfied, she stood, holding each flower in hand. She peered down at the small holes Claire had dug, each roughly the size of a shoebox, and then nodded definitively. “I’m ready.”

Claire rose beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder, gesturing Leon over with the other. With Sherry preoccupied, he mouthed in Claire’s direction, a _what the hell_ evident on his lips. Claire only rolled her eyes and and beckoned him once again with the curl of her index finger.

Leon surrendered, standing in place beside Claire.

“I’m supposed to say something, right?” Sherry asked.

Claire gave her shoulder a careful squeeze. “Only if you want to, Sherry.”

The girl placed the flowers on the ground and then closed her eyes, pensive as she clasped her hands together. A moment of silence was shared between the three of them until she began to speak.

“Dear God,” Sherry’s voice quivered, “Or...anyone who is up there.”

She cracked open a blue eye, peeking up at the cloudy sky above before closing her eyes once more. “Please don’t be mad at my parents. I know they did bad things, but...I know they are sorry for it, too.”

Leon felt like he had been sucker punched in the gut. He wasn’t sure what hurt more: listening to Sherry’s monologue or being smacked across a hallway by the Tyrant? Maybe, he thought, he would have preferred the latter at that moment.

“We didn’t get to do a lot of things together, but I still loved them a lot. I’m glad they took care of me and helped me meet Claire and Leon.” A small smile graced her face. “Please take care of my parents for me now. Tell them I will see them when I’m grown up!”

Sherry seemed amused by the thought, a giggle bubbling into the air. “Thank you for listening to me today. Um...amen.”

Claire gave the girl a pat on the head. “That was really sweet, Sherry.”

Leon watched the two bury the flowers from behind, vision blurred and chest aching.

* * *

 Claire sat on the steps outside of the motel and watched the night sky as Sherry slept. She didn’t move as Leon approached her. Instead, she kept her chin rested on her knees and searched the stars.

“That’s Pleiades.” She said, pointing towards a particularly bright cluster of stars in the distance. “The seven sisters.”  
  
Leon sat beside her, stretching his legs along the length of the staircase. He looked up at the stars she pointed out. “You’re a woman of many talents.”

Claire laughed. “The seven sisters were the daughters of Atlas. After he was condemned to carry the world on his shoulders, Zeus put them in the sky to comfort him...or so they say.”

“That’s a sad story.” Leon wasn’t sure where she was going with it, but he waited for her to continue.

The chirping of cicadas in the distance filled the silence between them. He surveyed the parking lot below for any signs of life, a habit he had picked up during police training. Safety always came first and motels had a reputation for drawing in sketchy people. There was no way he’d let them survive the zombie apocalypse only to meet their fate in a dingy motel.

“My parents died when I was young too.” Leon wasn’t surprised. Claire was tough as nails, and one doesn’t become a bonafide badass like Claire Redfield without enduring some type of trauma.

“I’m sorry.” Leon cringed at his own cliche, and Claire shook her head.

“No, it’s okay...I had my brother, Chris.” She smiled, reminiscing. “He told me that Pleiades was my parents, that they had become stars so they could always watch over me.”

She laughed, a surprisingly wet sound, and Leon was too afraid to look at her in fear of seeing tears. After their makeshift funeral, he was sure the sight would make his heart shatter into pieces.

“I was five. I believed it.”

Leon shifted uncomfortably beside her, feeling a little out of place. He couldn’t relate. “It sounds like he was a good older brother.”

Claire placed a hand on his knee and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He stiffened slightly in surprise, but relaxed into the gesture, instinctively wrapping an arm around her. It felt like the right thing to do.

“We had a funeral for my parents too.” She continued. “Like the one today. It helped, so don’t think I’m crazy.”

Leon tightened his hold on her, pulling her just a smidgeon closer. “Claire, I think you’re crazy for a lot of reasons, but that’s not one of them.”

She giggled, a light, tinkling sound that warmed him despite the October chill. “You’re one to talk, Mr. Kennedy.”

Claire lifted her head from his shoulder and craned her neck to press a soft, chaste kiss to the side of his cheek. He felt the skin of his face begin to burn and convinced himself that it was from the heat of her lips, not the fact that she was _Claire_.

“Thanks for being my five-minute therapist.” She whispered before nuzzling back into him.

Claire Redfield was an enigma, of that he was certain, but Leon found that he was enjoying the thrill of unraveling her secrets with each day that passed. 

He hoped for many more to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks goes out to [Kristin S.](http://www.kcarella.daportfolio.com/), who decided to provide some incredible illustrations to accompany this work! She's incredibly talented - please check her out on [Instagram](http://www.instagram.com/solitaryzombie), [twitter](https://twitter.com/solitaryzombie), or hit up her [linktr.ee](https://linktr.ee/solitaryzombie) to show her some love!


	3. Halloween

“Can we get a pumpkin?” Sherry asked, pointing towards a pile of pumpkins that had been haphazardly stacked in the corner of the produce department of the local grocer's.

Claire had been searching through the apples nearby with the intention of replenishing their modest stockpile of food that had dwindled down to near nothing. She shifted her attention towards Sherry, observing as she carefully studied the pumpkins one by one.

“I thought you said Halloween was lame.” Claire remarked, unable to hold back a grin as she watched Sherry struggle to turn one of the larger pumpkins around in order to scrutinize its backside.

“I said _ghosts_ and _skeletons_ are lame.” Sherry clarified, gesturing towards the cardboard cutouts and synthetic cobwebs that had been positioned in the windows of the storefront in honor of the season. “Totally not scary.”

_Yeah_ , Claire thought, _watching your dad turn into legit nightmare fuel and witnessing your mother die right before your eyes probably screws up your perception of horror._ The fact that Sherry had fallen victim to such terrible experiences left her both furious and grievous. Claire figured that, if she had known, she would have made sure to dispose of Birkin during their first meeting. _And beat the ever living fuck out of Irons on sight._

Despite the morbid thought, she forced a laugh and kneeled beside Sherry, pointing out one of the better shaped pumpkins.

“How about that one?” Claire asked.

Sherry wrinkled her nose and carefully analyzed the pumpkin, running her fingertips over its surface slowly. After a long pause, she nodded emphatically and clapped her hands together in excitement. Squatting down beside the pumpkin, she hoisted it into her arms with a small grunt and cradled it to her chest.

“Do you think Leon will help me carve it?” She asked, earning a pointed look from Claire.

“Oh, you don't want _my_ help?” Claire placed a hand on her hip and glared at her indignantly.

“Oh, _nooo_! I do!” Sherry shook her head back and forth, her blonde ponytail whipping back and forth with the movement. “I just want Leon to do the yucky part with the seeds!”

Claire smirked at the comment and shook her head, amused despite the sense of guilt that surfaced within her. She could only assume she had corrupted Sherry in some way to inspire her to delegate the less favorable task to Leon, as she was the one who often teased him. To be completely honest, though, she had always batted her eyelashes at Chris to persuade him to clean out the guts of the pumpkin as a young girl, too.

_Take it easy in front of the kid from now on, Claire._ She told herself, feeling a little sympathetic for Leon regardless.

“Yeah, yeah. I'll have you know that I'm a pumpkin carving _prodigy._ ” Claire insisted, waving her hand in the air as if her statement wasn't a bold claim and as casual as reporting the weather. “I've been carving pumpkins longer than you've been _alive_.”

Sherry's eyes widened in awe. She was completely taken back by the statement, unable to fathom that someone could have done _anything_ for as long as she had been alive. Sure, she admired Claire, but she had no idea that she was in the presence of a pumpkin carving _prodigy_.

“You can do the yucky part if you want.” Sherry's voice was soft, almost as if she were embarrassed that she had ever suggested that anyone else take on such a task.

Claire laughed and lifted the pumpkin from the girl, tucking it under an arm and holding it against her hip for leverage. “Are you kidding me? Of _course_ we're gonna make Leon do the gross part.”

* * *

 Leon accepted his fate with little complaint. The excitement that twinkled in Sherry’s eyes as he laid out sheets of newspaper to catch their mess was more than enough to make gutting the pumpkin worth the trouble. He lifted the pumpkin onto the table and held it by its stem, rotating it in order to determine which side should be used as its face.

Sherry sat across from him, elbows propped up on the table with her chin in her hands as she supervised. It was fun to spend time with Claire and Leon. In fact, Sherry thought that she had more fun with pair than she had ever had with her parents, probably, and she kind of wished that _they_ were her parents instead. Claire and Leon were _cool_. Annette and William were _boring_.

“My parents were always too busy working or fighting to do fun stuff.” Sherry reminisced aloud, her lips pursed into a pout. “My pumpkins were always ugly.”

Claire placed a hand on Sherry’s shoulder in reassurance. “Well, that ends here. Not only am I a pumpkin carving prodigy, but Leon is also a pumpkin carving _champion_. He’s won, like, a hundred pumpkin carving awards.” Her blue eyes found his, and she winked. “Haven’t you, Leon?”

Leon didn’t know how Claire always managed to make his insides burn with such a simple gesture, but he thought that maybe he was starting to like it. His heart skipped a beat and he swallowed thickly, mentally willing the heat in his chest to dissipate.

“Y-yeah.” He lied, voice just barely confident enough to convince the girl. “How the heck do you think I got into the police academy? Pumpkin carving scholarship.”

Claire laughed and Sherry’s mouth fell open in astonishment. Leon nodded at the girl to further reinforce the feigned truth and rolled the sleeves of his black henley to his elbows. “The first rule of pumpkin carving is to not make a mess.” He explained and tilted his head to one side to shoot a wink right back at Claire.

Claire felt as though her heart had fluttered into her throat. Something about the cocky gesture and the way the muscles in his forearm flexed as he pierced through the top of the pumpkin with his knife made a heat pool low in the pit of her belly. She watched as blonde locks fell into his face and he brushed them away with the back of his palm, face set hard in concentration as he worked.

Leon was such a _nerd_ , really. He insisted on keeping things neat and had a systematic way of approaching everything. She, on the other hand, was more like a hurricane, unpredictable and explosive in virtually every aspect of her life. After all, didn’t someone wise once say that variety was the spice of life? That was something she firmly believed in.

Still, she liked Leon’s dorkiness...not that she would admit it aloud.

He grinned as he finally managed to pull the top from the pumpkin, strands of slimy seeds suspended in the air, dangling from the underside of the top. Sherry made a disgusted expression at the sight, eliciting a laugh from Leon.

“Come on, this is nothing compared to the sewers.”

Sherry couldn’t argue with him. At least the pumpkin didn’t smell like the sewers.

* * *

 The flickering glow of the jack-o’-lantern set the mood, casting long, eerie shadows throughout the room. Outside, rain pelted against the glass of the window, the tell-tale _crack_ of lightning piercing the sky occasionally echoing in the distance. Within the safety of the motel room, the trio had packed themselves into one of the beds, a cliche haunting movie playing on the small television.

“ _This_ is a horror movie?” Sherry asked, rolling her eyes as the teenager on the screen screamed, kitchen cabinets appearing to slam shut on their own at the will of the antagonistic ghost. “This is just dumb. I can’t believe I waited so long for this.”

Claire laughed. “You’ve gotta suspend your disbelief, Sherry. Some people find this stuff _super_ scary.”

Sherry gave her a skeptical look. “Ghosts aren’t even real, Claire. How can you be scared of ghosts? That’s like being afraid of Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.”

“Well,” Claire gave it a brief thought, “Zombies supposedly aren’t real either, _buuut_ …”

She teasingly nudged Sherry lightly in the side, knowing she had won the argument. Sherry indeed found herself unable to provide a counter argument and sighed, returning her attention to the movie. “Yeah, yeah…” The girl grumbled, still convinced that the movie was _stupid_.

By the time the vampire film had started up in the midst of their Halloween movie marathon, Sherry had fallen asleep.

“Man, I was terrified of horror movies when I was a kid.” Leon confessed. “Sherry’s tough.”

Claire snorted at Leon’s confession, completely unsurprised. A geek like Leon _would_ have been afraid of monsters in the closet. He was probably the kind of kid to remind the teacher that she had forgotten to assign homework, too.

The thought amused her, and she looked over at Leon with a smile. The dim lighting in the room emphasized the long lines of his nose and jaw, giving him a profoundly masculine profile from her vantage point. His full lips were perpetually pulled into an enticing pout, one that never failed to tempt her to want to press her mouth to his and try to wipe that expression off his face. He was handsome, for sure, and Claire sometimes wondered how she managed to survive the zombie apocalypse with a man who could have easily been a supermodel.

Leon felt her stare and turned towards her. She was sunken down a little lower in the bed and gazed up at him with those round, long-lashed, cerulean eyes that probably could have convinced him to do just about anything. He could make out the irregular smattering of light freckles across her pale skin in their close proximity and he caught himself wondering how it'd feel to graze his lips across each and every one.

How did he manage to survive the zombie apocalypse with the woman who might be the prettiest girl he had ever seen?

He looked over at Sherry, fast asleep and turned away from the two, and he lifted his hand to cradle the side of Claire's face with an open palm. Leon traced the pad of his thumb along the constellation of freckles, but it wasn't quite the same.

“Trick or treat?” He asked, voice husky, and Claire grinned.

Claire craned her neck to bring her face closer to his. “I'll show you a treat.” She whispered, her hot breath fanning across his face.

And she kissed him with a careful and slow press of her lips. It was a deliberate kiss, one that made him realize that, yeah, Claire _was_ the prettiest girl he had ever seen...no tricks about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You wonderful people humble me beyond words! Thank you so much.
> 
> A huge thanks goes out to [Kristin S.](http://www.kcarella.daportfolio.com/), who decided to provide some incredible illustrations to accompany this work! She's incredibly talented - please check her out on [Instagram](http://www.instagram.com/solitaryzombie), [twitter](https://twitter.com/solitaryzombie), or hit up her [linktr.ee](https://linktr.ee/solitaryzombie) to show her some love!


	4. Home

Leon could think of a myriad of words to describe Claire, but “anxious” was not one of them. From the backseat of the cab, he studied the subtle bounce of her knee and the way she thrummed her fingertips against the top of her opposite thigh.

These subtle signs, he had learned in the police academy, were often signs of nervousness, and he found it riveting to witness them manifest on Claire. This was especially due to the fact that Claire was probably the most confident woman he had ever met, never openly expressing shame or doubt in regard to anything she had done.

Why would she be nervous about returning to her childhood home? Was there something she didn’t want them to see?

Sherry paused her humming from beside him in the backseat. She had been staring out the window, observing the fiery colors of the changing leaves as they blew by. Growing up in a condo in Raccoon City had been a lot different than what she was seeing now in the suburbs. She had never seen so much vegetation in her life.

“Are you excited?” She asked, earning a nod from Claire.

“Yeah. I haven't been back since I was seventeen.” Her voice was soft, almost mournful for the time that had elapsed.

So it had been excitement, not anxiety. _That_ made a lot more sense. He was tempted to slap himself for his poor detective work. _Come on, Kennedy! Even a kid had managed to figure it out._ _Gotta get back to the books once this all boils over._

The Redfield home was a modest grey house with a collection of various grey stones adorning its face. A veranda stood out front, the couple of steps leading up to it fashioned from similar stones. Unkempt vines had claimed the side of the house, growing along its height in tendrils and overtaking one of the windows.

It was somehow cozy in spite being forlorn. If he squinted hard enough, Leon imagined he could see a younger Claire climbing the willow tree out front. Considering her spitfire nature in adulthood, he could only guess that she was a dangerously free spirit as a child. _She probably gave her parents a serious run for their money._

“We have to get in through the back.” Claire informed them, beckoning them to follow with the wave of her hand.

They were met with a covered patio adorned with strands of cafe lights looped from its awning. A few of the bulbs were shattered, Leon noted, and the cushions of the furniture beneath were peppered with clusters of mildew. It had definitely been a few seasons since someone had tended to the house, but it managed to keep its charm. With a little bit of tender, loving care, it would be a comfortable lounge area.

Claire pointed to the corner of one of the rafters overhead and squatted down beside Sherry. “You see up there?” She asked, and Sherry stood on her tiptoes, nodding.

“Don’t tell anyone, but the key is hidden up there.” Claire pressed a finger to her lips as if it would maintain the secrecy. “I’m gonna lift you up so you can get it.”

Leon watched as Sherry climbed onto Claire’s back, throwing her legs over each of her shoulders. Claire looped her hands around her thighs to hold her steady and slowly rose, standing on her own tiptoes in order for Sherry to grope around for the key.

The girl wrinkled her nose and pulled her hand back, producing the key along with a tangle of spiderwebs that clung to her fingers. “Gross!”

Claire laughed and lowered Sherry to the ground. Approaching the door, she used the side of her hand to wipe the grime away from the window and peered inside. The sunlight filtering into the kitchen silhouetted the furniture inside, but she was unable to make out the finer details.

She unlatched the door and held her breath for a moment as she pushed it open, wincing as it creaked on its hinges.

The kitchen had been left exactly as she had remembered it. She moved slowly through the room, grazing her fingertips across the smooth countertop and leaving trails in the fine film of dust that garnished its surface. It was familiar and strange at the same time, like a recollection of a dream that you just couldn’t _quite_ remember.

Leon watched her from the doorway as she made her way towards the fridge, its surface cluttered with various photos and scraps of paper. Claire couldn’t hold back the grin that worked its way across her face as she made her way to it, pulling off a photo and gently wiping away the dust with the pad of her thumb.

Sherry crossed the room and stood beside Claire as she looked up at the photos that adorned the fridge. “Is this your family?” She asked, head tilted to the side in curiosity.

“Yeah.” The broad smile remained on her face, so contagious that Leon, too, felt warmth bloom in his chest.

Claire tapped a photo of a young man in uniform, the stoic expression on his face leaving no doubt that it was a military portrait. “This is my brother, Chris. He was eighteen here.”

Although his complexion was darker and his build seemed much wider than Claire's, Sherry could see the resemblance. “Where is he now?”

Shifting her weight onto one foot, Claire crossed her arms over her chest and pondered. “I don't know.” She eventually confessed. “He worked for a special team at the Raccoon City Police Department before everything happened. I came looking for him, but never found him.”

She cleared her throat loudly, fending off any doubt or dark emotion that threatened to surface. “I know he's okay though. If he was there, he made it out. Chris is even tougher than I am.”

Sherry's eyes widened at the prospect. “Tougher than _you_?”

“Yeah.” Claire laughed awkwardly, humbled by Sherry's awe. “He's the toughest person I know.”

The relationship Claire shared with her brother was something Leon couldn't relate to. He had been an only child of a career-driven single mother and, no matter how many times he had begged for a sibling in his early childhood, she did not grant that wish. He couldn't understand sibling love, but he wondered what kind of man her brother was after hearing Claire's high praise for him.

Sherry pointed to another photo, one of a young girl sitting between two adults at a table with a birthday cake.

“Is this _you_?” She asked, the question punctuated by a gasp.

Claire nodded and Leon made his way over to them, his interest piqued. He recognized Claire in the photo in an instant despite the moon-like face of childhood and the coppery tones of her once auburn hair. Of _course_ she was a cute kid.

“You look a lot like your mom now.” Leon remarked, and he watched her smile morph into a wide grin.

Sherry wandered into the living room and threw herself onto the worn couch, her small frame sinking into the cushions. She observed the room slowly, her blue eyes sweeping over the furniture and photographs that covered the walls. “You have a lot of pictures.”

Claire meandered around the room, unsure of where to begin her tidying. She straightened out the wrinkled, aged magazines that were splayed out on the coffee table and fluffed throw pillows. _Gotta start somewhere, right?_

“Pictures help us old people remember things.” Leon spoke from behind them, taking in the photographs hanging on the wall.

Sherry grinned. “Claire, we have to take a picture together for Leon then! He’s _super_ old.”

* * *

 After several hours of cleaning, Sherry collapsed onto the small bed in an extra bedroom, arms splayed out across the handmade quilt beneath her. She stared up at the ceiling that had been adorned with plastic glow-in-the-dark stars, quickly losing count as she attempted to total up their quantity. There was probably, like, a hundred, she decided. At least, that’s what she’d go with if anyone asked her.

When Claire had told her that she could choose a room to use as her own, she was shocked. It was almost incredulous to her that people were given their own entire _room_ in a house. She definitely didn’t have a whole room where she lived. Maybe Claire’s family was just weird. Or rich.

Claire told her that the room had been hers, too, when she was a little girl. It was pretty cool. She liked the way the ceiling glowed in the low light of the evening and the fact that it had a fully stocked bookshelf. It even had its own tv set and _video games_. How super cool was that?

“Sherry!” Claire’s voice echoed from the kitchen. “Come eat!”

Sherry sat up in bed with haste and bolted for the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and she was kind of totally excited to try Claire’s cooking because her mom never really cooked for her and her dad didn’t know how to make anything except sandwiches. Most of the time, her parents were working late and she had to eat _yucky_ microwave meals by herself. Sometimes, though, her dad convinced her mom to order pizza and they’d watch a movie together.

She liked pizza night.

Sherry gasped when she entered the kitchen. “You know how to make _spaghetti_?!”

Claire laughed. She didn’t have the heart to tell the girl it was only boiled noodles and a jar of store-bought pasta sauce. It was her go-to, low-effort struggle meal on nights when she couldn’t convince Chris to send her money with her “starving college student” guilt trip.

Sherry slid across the tile floor in her socks as she hurried for the table, but Leon clicked his tongue, extending an arm out in front of her to disrupt her path. “Gotta wash your hands first, young lady.”

With a grumble, she spun on her heel, moving to the kitchen sink. “Wow, Leon...that’s something my parents say. You must be as old as my parents...and they’re _mega_ old.”

Sherry was pleased to find that it was probably the best spaghetti _ever._ Leon told her to slow down, but she wasn’t really worried about choking or anything because Claire was there and Claire _always_ saved her. Claire was cool. Leon was old.

“Are you happy to be back home?” Sherry asked through a mouthful of pasta.

“It’s nice being back in the house.” Claire said, pausing to set down her fork.

She watched Sherry inhale another forkful of noodles, much to Leon’s dismay, and she held in a laugh. A lot of memories had been made at that kitchen table. She recalled the woes of trying to complete algebra homework at the last minute during breakfast, teasing Chris for his impressive lack of cooking skills, and the taste of her first underage beer during a poker session as she sat there, watching the two of them interact.

It tugged at something in her chest.

“But,” She continued, interrupting their banter, “It’s just a house. You guys are what makes it a home.”

Sherry paused and chewed her spaghetti slowly as she thought about it, but it was weird. A house that you live in _is_ a home. She didn’t get it.

Weird probably ran in the Redfield family...just like she thought.


	5. Jealousy

Sherry was abruptly woken from her nap by the sound of muffled voices filtering through her bedroom window. At first, she attempted to ignore it and buried her head beneath her pillow, hoping that feathers within it provided a decent enough sound barrier to allow her to fall back to sleep. Once her addled mind managed to shake away the cobwebs of sleep, however, she found herself jolting upright in bed, tucking her hair behind her ears as she strained to make out the details of the conversation.

She recognized the voices.

Well, _yeah_ , of course she did. She lived with Claire and Leon, so who else would it have been? The girl rolled her eyes and gently slapped herself on the forehead in a dramatic gesture.

Frustrated with her failed attempt at eavesdropping, Sherry crept across the room on tiptoes and peered out the window. Claire and Leon were out of her line of sight, so she undid the latch of the window and struggled to pull it open, surrendering the task after exposing just a few inches of the screen behind it in order to listen to their conversation.

“It _definitely_ sounds like she was going to kill you!”

Claire’s voice was sharp and it took Sherry by surprise. Claire was always so soft and sweet when they spoke. Annoyance didn’t suit her well and Sherry found that she didn’t like the sound of it. It reminded her of her parents arguing over which of the two had forgotten to pick up Sherry from school, which wasn’t ever really a big deal if you asked her because she had two legs and walked just fine.

Adults were weird like that--always making mountains out of molehills.

At least, that’s how the saying went, as far as she knew. What was a molehill anyway?

She heard Leon sigh, the sound followed by the cracking of wood. He was chopping firewood, she had learned last week when Claire tried to teach her how to hold an axe and Leon talked her out of it. Something about _blah, blah, girls don’t need to do that kind of work when a man is around_ and Claire retorting with something like _blah, blah, don’t be a mis…og..._

Sherry forgot the word, but it wasn’t a pretty one anyway.

“Yeah, but she might _not_ have, either.”

Leon's voice was quiet and trailed off, almost as if he had more to say. Sherry waited to hear what came next, but was only met with the drilling of a woodpecker in the distance and the rustle of leaves as the wind dances through the trees.

“Leon, she pointed a _gun_ at you. She lied to you the entire time.”

Sherry held in a gasp. Someone pointed a gun at Leon? That sounded pretty scary. Sherry had to agree with Claire, and it wasn't just because Claire was super smart and cool. Guns are only for killing people, aren't they? Why else would you point a gun at someone?

“Maybe she was just trying to protect me.”

Sherry furrowed her brows together. How would lying and pointing a gun at someone be protection? That didn't make any sense at all.

Maybe Leon caught the dumb virus. The D-U-M-B-virus.

“Leon, if she wanted to protect you, she wouldn't have gotten you wrapped up in this G-virus mess to begin with!”

Sherry nodded. She had no idea who they were talking about, but the G-virus was totally a mess and she wouldn't invite anyone to that weird party.

“She needed help, Claire. It was a solo suicide mission. She got me involved because she needed _my_ help.”

Claire laughed bitterly. “You _really_ believe that a highly trained double agent genuinely needed help from a rookie cop? Yeah, alright, Leon.”

Although it wasn’t directed at her, Sherry felt the residual burn that the vitriol of her words left in its wake. There was a long period of silence and, after she was confident that Claire had left, Sherry met Leon outside.

“He- _ey,_  Leon.” Sherry did her best to play it cool.

Leon looked back over his shoulder at Sherry briefly before turning himself fully towards her with a feigned smile on his face. He gave her a quick wave and cleared his throat.

“Hey, Sherry.”

His voice was despondent, marked with signs of the inner grief he was experiencing. It hurt her in a way, and she sighed before hoisting herself up onto a nearby tree stump.

“Claire’s mad at you, huh?” She asked, letting her feet sway back and forth as they dangled, suspended above the ground.

He suddenly felt embarrassed at the realization that Sherry had likely overheard their conversation. Leon coughed nervously and began to toe at loose soil with his boot.

“Yeah.” He confessed, staring hard at the ground. “I don’t know why though.”

Sherry squinted and looked up at the sky, watching the clouds pass by. She didn’t want Claire to be mad, but Leon had helped them escape Raccoon City and find Claire’s house. He was pretty nice and he usually made Claire happy, too. Even though he had come down with the D-virus, giving him assistance was the least she could do.

“My parents used to fight like that a lot.” Sherry said as she leaned forward to idly pick at the bark at the edge of the stump. “My dad used to make my mom really mad whenever he talked about one of his coworkers.”

Leon came to sit beside Sherry, taking the opposite side of the tree stump. Their backs were facing one another’s and Sherry reclined against his.

“Her name was Alexia and my dad hated her a lot. He was always complaining about Alexia and talking about ways to show everyone that he was smarter than her.”

Sherry laughed at the mental image of her father, red in the face as he waved his hands about and angrily ranted at the dinner table.

“My mom was always angry when he talked about her. She would always say, _‘Alexia this, Alexia that!’_ She hated her a lot. Do you know why?”

Leon shrugged and nearly regretted his impending question, given the girl’s history. “No, why?”

Sherry hopped off the stump and rounded it, placing herself right in front of Leon. She bent forward at the waist and cupped her hands around her mouth, hovering close as she whispered, “Cuz she was _jealous_.”

He gave her a skeptical look.

“Are you trying to imply that Claire is jea--”

Sherry leapt forward and covered his mouth with her hand, shaking her head as she placed her index finger over her lips in a gesture of silence. She looked over each shoulder, scanning the area for any sign of Claire. The last thing she needed was to tick off Claire too.

“Gosh, Leon, for an adult, you sure don’t know much about girls.” Sherry crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head in the way a disappointed parent would. “Girls get jealous of each other when they like someone.”

Leon gave her a skeptical look. Sherry was a twelve-year-old girl who had spent all of her free time in an underground laboratory as far as he knew. What did she know about women? Even more so, what did Claire have to be jealous of concerning a woman she had never met?

“Like?” Leon nearly stuttered, a bit taken back by the assertion. In hindsight, yes, he hoped that she wouldn't kiss someone she didn't harbor some sort of warm regards for, but... _like_? Wasn't that serious?

Sherry huffed and rolled her eyes, annoyed with Leon's aloofness.

“You should just apologize, okay? Give her something she likes and say you're sorry.”

Leon mulled the idea over in his head. Claire liked guns, killing zombies, gory movies, and video games. He didn't necessarily have easy access to any of it, and he didn't think a bundle of handgun magazines was particularly romantic.

Sherry caught note of his perplexed expression and she began to tap her foot impatiently.

“For goodness’ sake, Leon! All girls like chocolate. Just do that!”

* * *

 Leon stared at his own reflection in the glass case before him, its insides intricately lined with carefully arranged handmade candies. He had seen the candy shop in the nearby town square several times while passing through but had never entered it. Now, being faced with the seeming _millions_ of choices the confectioner had to offer, he felt overwhelmed.

“Anniversary, birthday, or apology?”

The sound of the elderly woman’s voice caught him by surprise, and Leon laughed nervously, embarrassed by his obvious uncertainty. Was his face really so expressive? He’d have to work on that.

“Apology.” He confessed, feeling heat surface on his cheeks. The older woman gave him a kind smile and the wrinkles that formed around the edges of her blue eyes hinted that she was likely well-versed in the language of chocolate-covered apology.

“How bad?” She asked, a dimple forming in her cheek as she smiled.

Leon shook his head. It wasn’t _that_ bad...at least, he didn’t think it was. He had only mildly pissed her off.

The woman looked down into the glass case for a moment before looking back at him. “What is she like?”

Leon hadn’t expected the Spanish Inquisition when he came into the shop. Was chocolate really so serious? His initial plan was to just grab a cheap candy bar from the grocery store and he almost regretted not doing so. Women were far more complex than he realized.

“Uh…” He wasn’t exactly sure how to describe her. She’s a badass who kills zombies? She can probably shoot a gun better than he can? She’s cute even when caked with sewer funk and chunks of viscera?

“She’s incredibly kind.” He finally managed to answer. “She’s the type of woman to do anything for you, stranger or not. I don’t think she’s afraid of anything.”

He smiled to himself at the recollection of how bravely she had marched to the proverbial frontline of the undead army. Yes, he had done the same, though admittedly with less composure, and he certainly hadn’t risked his life for a child. He envied that about her--she was unshakeable.

“She’s pretty much a force of nature. Powerful but beautiful...and stubborn beyond belief.”

The shopkeeper's face lit up, touched by his commentary.

“I know just the thing.” She said with a broad grin.

* * *

 Claire had been passing through her parents’ bedroom while toweling off her damp hair when she caught notice of it within her periphery. She paused at the foot of the bed, towel draped around her shoulders with one hand still entangled in her hair as she stared hard at the small white box on the nightstand.

It _definitely_ hadn’t been there before, right?

She continued to stare, a perplexed expression on her face. No, she was positive that she would have noticed it if it had already been there. She wasn’t as observant as Chris, but she wasn’t completely heedless.

Was it for _her_?

Claire sat on the side of the bed and picked up the box. She ran her thumb along the edge of the silk red ribbon that held it closed, imagination running wild with the possibilities of what was hidden inside. The surprise that came with gift giving had not lost its childlike wonder even in her adulthood.

Carefully, she undid the ribbon and lifted the lid, finding a small, handwritten note inside. It wasn’t even remotely shocking to discover that Leon had immaculate, script-like print considering how he was so neatly put together in every way. Sometimes, she wondered if he had walked directly out of a textbook.

_Sherry told me I must have caught the D-Virus back in Raccoon City. I can only assume the “D” stands for “dumb.” I’m sorry for being a dumbass, but it’s just part of the disease’s natural course, I’m afraid._

_Dr. Sherry says the best remedy is chocolate. I tried to convince the florist to tie up a bundle of handgun magazines instead, but she vehemently refused and threatened to call the police on me. Little does she know...I_ **_am_ ** _the police. How else would I have gotten my hands on a dozen magazines?_

_I hope you actually like chocolate._

_\- L_

Claire couldn’t hold back her laughter. She erupted into a fit of giggles, both amused and touched by the gesture. Leon was, without a doubt, the biggest dork she had ever met...and she wouldn’t have had it any other way.

A soft knock at the door proceeded Sherry’s entrance into the bedroom, and she stood in the doorway triumphantly with her hands poised on her hips in a heroic pause.

“I really just wanted chocolate.” She confessed, eliciting more laughter from Claire.

Claire patted the mattress beside her in a welcoming gesture, but spoke with a definitive sternness. “It’s not nice to bully Leon, Sherry.”

Sherry shrugged and popped one of the chocolates into her mouth. “I know, but it’s fun.”

Once Claire took a chocolate for herself, she was inclined to change her mind.

“Alright,” She said through a mouthful of chocolate, “You can bully him _sometimes._..but only when I say it’s okay.”

Sherry nodded and the two broke out into giggles.

 _Poor Leon,_  she thought to herself, _I’ll be sure to repay him later._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally made both Leon and Sherry children...but in different ways. Oops.


	6. Trauma

The air was pungent with both the taste and smell of the smoke that burned the entire length of his airway. Leon coughed hard in an attempt to clear it from his system, but it was to no avail. He felt the heat of the fire nearby lick at the inside of his nose, almost hot enough to singe him, and his eyes began to water in response.

Claire’s childhood home was _burning._

Despite all of the training and mock emergency response scenarios he had endured during his training, Leon felt panic begin to set in. It closed around him like a vise, forming tendrils along his side that threatened to crush his chest beneath their strength. His vision blurred from both the fear and the smoke, and he briefly leaned against the nearby wall for support, a dizzy spell washing over him.

“CLA--IRE!” He managed to call out, her name interrupted by a harsh fit of coughs. A stitch had formed in his side and he braced a hand against his ribs for support. “SHERRY!”

The only response he received was the cracking of the flames that were quickly swallowing the home.

Leon struggled to move forward, his eyes instinctively narrowed as a result of the assault of the ash in the air. It was becoming difficult to breathe, and he tugged at the collar of his shirt as if the effort would somehow cool him off.

 _Don’t panic. It’s alright._ **_They’re_ ** _alright. Claire is smart...she’s strong. She’s okay. She survived the outbreak. This fire is nothing._

This time, the wetness that welled in his eyes wasn’t solely because of the environmental conditions.

A low, familiar groan came from behind him and he whipped around swiftly, a hand instinctively shooting for his hip, and he was surprised to find his Matilda snugly contained within his holster. He couldn’t recall grabbing the weapon, but the fight-or-flight response was a powerful thing. Despite his current predicament, he was still a cop at heart, and his instincts were good. He would commend himself later.

He felt the urge to vomit at the sight that met him. The flaming silhouette of a shuffling man made its way down the hallway, arms limply dangling at its sides as it let out a growl. Though he had seen hundreds of zombies in Raccoon City, the image of one of those _things_ in Claire’s home struck him in a peculiar way.

How the hell did it get here?

Did this mean...the infection had spread?

Leon felt his heart slam hard against his chest as if the organ were attempting to escape its bone confines. Swallowing hard, he raised his pistol and aimed for the creature’s head as it swayed back and forth, its face steadily becoming obscured by both smoke and flame alike.

His shot rang through the room, audible even despite the raging of the fire, and the creature fell back with a loud _thud._ In response, Leon let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Did it come all the way from Raccoon?

Leon shook his head. This wasn’t the place nor the time. He had to get out.

But Claire…

“ ** _CLAIRE_**!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, the action rubbing his throat even more raw.

Nothing.

He stumbled down the stairs, chest heaving as he attempted to take in enough oxygen to call out once again. With a hand braced against the end of the bannister for support, he knelt down into a crouch and began to work his way through the ground floor, his hazy mind recalling the technique from some course in his training.

A loud _crack_ sounded and he watched in horror as the roof of the kitchen collapsed.

There was no time left. If he stayed in the house, he would certainly die.

_She made it out. She’s outside waiting. Claire’s fine. Sherry’s fine. You’ll be fine. We are fine._

He desperately wanted to believe it as he made his way to the front of the house. Leon rose and leaned against the door, taking in rapid, shallow breaths. He clenched his eyes shut to brace himself and rammed the door with as much strength as he could manage.

Leon came barreling through the doorway and stumbled out onto the porch. His legs went weak as he tripped over a floorboard and he caught himself on the railing nearby, breathing ragged as he hoisted himself back onto his feet.

Misery blindsided him like a baseball bat to the face. He was not met with the sight of Claire and Sherry anxiously waiting for him.

Instead, he faced a horde of undead as they meandered about the front of the lawn.

For the first time since his graduation from the academy, Leon let out a strangled sob, completely and utterly overwhelmed.

With the final shred of energy he could summon, Leon called out once again, “ ** _CLAIRE_**!?”

This time, he _was_ granted a response.

“Leon! Leon!” The girlish squeal of Sherry’s voice caught him off guard, and he spun around on his heel, surveying the area in rapid search for the girl.

And then he found himself jolting upright in bed, the entire room enveloped in a blanket of darkness. The parting of the curtains on the nearby window allowed a sliver of moonlight to filter through, and he squinted hard, making out the round edges of Sherry’s face.

“Sherry?” His voice was gruff with sleep and, when he swallowed, he felt the same burn in his throat that he had experienced in his nightmare.

Sherry’s features were softened in a look of concern and he realized his hand had been fumbling across the sheets in search for his handgun.

“Should I get Claire?” She asked, and Leon grunted before shaking his head.

“I’m fine...just a nightmare.” He explained, and then forced a smile as he looked at the girl. “Don’t worry about me. Everything is fine.”

Sherry’s expression didn’t lead him to believe she was convinced. She pulled her mouth sideways in uncertainty and her blue eyes searched his face carefully.

After a moment, she hoisted herself up onto the foot of the bed and sat cross-legged.

“Did you dream about...you know?”

Her voice so soft that he strained to make out her words. Though she hadn’t been explicit about it, he knew she was referring to the Raccoon City incident, and he wasn’t sure how to respond. His experience with children was limited, having been an only child all of his life. Was twelve old enough? If it wasn’t, had the outbreak hardened her enough to be?

Leon only nodded, the evidence of his shame burning on his cheeks, but shrouded by the darkness.

“I dream about it too.” She acted as though it were a confession, nervously shifting at the end of the bed. Each compulsive shift of her legs and wring of her fists against the sheets tugged at his heartstrings.

Sherry was resilient, but a kid shouldn't have to go through _that._

“I'm really sorry about everything that happened, Sherry. It's terrible and you didn't deserve it. Unfortunately, sometimes bad things happen to good people.”

The girl leaned back slightly to stare up at the ceiling. After having spent so many nights in Claire’s old bedroom beneath the artificial plastic stars, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to ever sleep in a room without them again. They had become comforting in a strange way, a reminder that she was a part of something much bigger than just Sherry Birkin, tormented daughter of William and Annette Birkin.

“Sometimes bad things happen to bad people, too.” She looked back at Leon and smiled sadly. “My parents were bad people. I still love them because they’re my parents, but I know they did bad things...and bad things happened to them.”

Leon felt like an arrow had been shot straight through his chest. Knowing that your parents weren’t the heroes you had hoped them to be sucked as an adult, but as a child...he couldn’t even fathom it.

He didn’t know what to say, but Claire probably would have. He was tempted to wake her to absolve himself from the burden of the conversation.

“I’m so sorry, Sherry.”

The girl nodded and the two shared a moment of silence. Leon looked out the crack between the curtains and stared hard at the woodline in the distance, just barely illuminated by the warm glow of the light from the porch. He wondered if, perhaps, he'd see one of those hunched over figures come stumbling from between the trees. Leon wasn't superstitious, but a small part of him feared that the dream might have been a premonition.

Trauma does that to you, right? Makes you irrational? Anxious?

_It's not gonna happen. The viruses died with the rest of Raccoon City._

He wondered how high the casualty count must have been.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Sherry asked, and Leon nodded.

“Of course you can.” Though, he had to admit, part of him feared what she may confess.

“Whenever I dream about it…” Sherry gave a thoughtful pause, as if debating revealing something so intimate with him.

“Whenever I dream about it, I make myself snap out of being scared and I keep telling myself to look for Claire. I try really, really hard because I know she can help and...I always find her in my dreams now. I find her and everything is okay.”

She smiled sheepishly.

“So, you know...if you dream about it again, try to dream Claire into it! She'll help beat up whatever you run into in your dream!”

Leon held in a laugh. The level of admiration Sherry held for Claire was adorable. Was the woman aware of the impression she left on the young girl? Surely she knew.

Though Claire hadn't saved him in the ways she had Sherry back in Raccoon, he took Sherry's suggestion into consideration, though he would have much rather dreamed about her in _other_ ways instead.

Leon’s musings came to an abrupt halt. Did he _really_ just think that?

Claire probably would have knocked his teeth out, had she known.

“Thanks, Sherry. I think that'll help.” He gestured towards the door. “It's late though. Don't let me keep you awake. You need some sleep, too.”

Sherry hopped off the bed and smoothed out the wrinkles in the oversized t-shirt Claire had lent her before making her way to the doorway. She stepped outside and closed the door halfway before pausing, poking her head back into the room.

“Remember,” she said, “Just find Claire.”

As he leaned back against the sweat-dampened pillow, he let out a slow sigh. After a while, he drifted into sleep and, during his final moments of lucidity, he reminded himself of Sherry’s advice.

_No matter where you end up, just find Claire. She’ll be there._

_With you._

_Always._


	7. Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just pretend CVX never happened...

“Hey Leon, do you have any brothers or sisters?”  
  
Sherry watched Leon shake his head as he flung the dice across the game board, each piece rolling and rattling until coming to a final halt. He let out an exasperated sigh and slid the battleship across the board, placing it in the designated jail.

“Monopoly is a bunch of bologna. You can’t put the police in prison!”

Sherry giggled and allowed her tongue to dart out between her lips, openly mocking him. This was the fourth time Leon had landed himself in jail this playthrough. She didn’t even _know_ that someone could have such bad luck.

“Maybe you’re a bad cop.” She mocked, and Leon couldn’t help but laugh.

“Or,” He said, “Maybe Monopoly is run by a bunch of bad guys who just want to get rid of me so they can commit their _theft_ on Boulevard.”

The commentary earned Claire’s ire and she sat up from her comfortable slouch to point at the bright, plastic hotel she had proudly placed on Boulevard.

“Mister Kennedy, I paid for this hotel fair and square with my own hard-earned money!” The assertion was accompanied by a sly smile on Claire’s part.

When he wasn’t in jail, he seemed to perpetually be trapped on Boulevard, forced to pay a steep fine. Sherry found it incredibly amusing despite knowing Claire would _definitely_ win that run, and it wasn’t only because she had scored Boulevard. Claire had told her that she had played the game countless times with her older brother, and it had piqued her interest.

“What’s it like to have a brother?” Sherry thought it must have been pretty cool if it involved playing games.

Claire gave the question a genuine thought. What _was_ it like to have a brother? It was difficult to define because she hadn’t ever known what it was like to _not_ have a brother, given that she was six years younger.

She remembered Chris’s hard expression the morning after her parents never came home.

* * *

  _“Why are mommy and daddy so late?” Claire pouted at the table as she poked at the slightly burnt frozen waffles Chris had reheated for her. She didn’t want to make Chris sad, but mommy definitely made them better than he did. Maybe if she drowned them in syrup, they’d be okay._

_Chris sat across from her. His placemat was empty, a trait that was uncharacteristic for the eleven-year-old, but Claire didn’t pay it any mind._

_“Claire…”_

_His voice sounded funny to her. Maybe Chris was sick? She would ask mommy later. In the meantime, she would let him borrow Mr. Fox. Mr. Fox always made her feel better, despite his missing button eye. Sometimes it even made her laugh because he looked so funny with just one eye._

_“Don’t tell mommy I used so much syrup, okay?”_

_Her waffles were floating in a sea of the sugary substance, but they were really delicious. Maybe even as good as mommy’s now._

_As she took a bite of her breakfast, she heard Chris let out a strangled sob._

_“Claire...mom and dad aren’t coming home.”_

_She paused. That didn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t they come home? Maybe he was messing with her. He did that sometimes._

_Claire gave no reaction and instead shoveled more waffle into her mouth. “Uh-huh…”_

_In response, Chris Redfield burst into tears. Loud, wet sobs racked through his wiry frame and he buried his face in his arms, body trembling with both fear and the force of his cries._

_It was the only time she had ever seen her brother cry, even to this day._

* * *

 Claire smiled sadly to herself at the memory, tears threatening to surface. She was ashamed of her naivete at that age and mournful for the grief Chris had to endure because of it. It was normal, she now knew, for a child to be unable to comprehend death, but for Chris, it must have been a recurring nightmare to have to explain it to her time and again.

“It’s like having your own personal superhero.” She said pridefully.

Leon noted the way her face lit up every time she spoke about her brother. It was endearingly sweet and he wondered if he’d ever have the opportunity to meet the man she so deeply respected. He had only seen him in the photos that had been plastered on the walls of the Redfield home, but the memories ceased after his military photo at the age of eighteen.

He had to have been...twenty-five now? A lot could change in six years.

Sherry’s eyes widened. “Wow, really? Like a princess and a knight?”

Claire laughed, but nodded her head. “Kind of. My brother definitely protected me growing up. He’s really strong too.”

Sherry placed her chin in her hands, attention now having shifted entirely from Monopoly to the details Claire had to tell. It sounded almost like a fairytale to the girl and she took in every word with amazement.

“Brothers sound so _cool_ . Can I meet your brother? If you adopt me, will he be _my_ brother too?”

The wetness in her eyes did not go unnoticed by Leon, even as she looked down at the paper money in her hands with a laugh.

“I hope so.” She said, voice barely above a whisper as images of the fire and the undead overtaking Raccoon City filled her mind.

* * *

 The canvas of color that autumn boasted was beginning to fade. The leaves that floated through the air had seen better days, withering away into dark, crinkled, skeletal remnants of what they had once been. Watching them whisk by so quickly made her feel dizzy.

“You know...being ex-S.T.A.R.S. probably won’t get you out of a speeding ticket.” Jill teased, peering over at the speedometer of the old, beaten up pickup truck.

In response, Chris grinned boyishly, his arm lazily resting out the window as he sped down the familiar, barren dirt road.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve been speeding down this road since I was fourteen and I don’t have a single ticket to show for it.” He glanced over at her with a smirk.

Jill looked at him curiously, an eyebrow raised in question. “Driving at fourteen? What a terrible cop-to-be.”

“Nah, skateboard.” He lied.

The light, bubbly sound of Jill’s laughter filled the cabin of the truck and he felt warmth spill into his chest. The lighthearted conversation was a welcome reprieve from the nightmare that Raccoon City had become. Though he was not oblivious to Umbrella’s fucked up creations thanks to the Arklay Incident, Nemesis had proven to be a hell of a challenge. Still fresh, the recollection of the Tyrant elicited a shiver that ran down his spine. He _almost_ regretted not taking up the option of heading to Europe with Barry.

He looked over at Jill, windblown with flushed cheeks as a result of the cool air that assaulted her through his open window. She tucked errant strands of hair behind her ear and she turned, light eyes meeting his.

_Scratch that,_ he thought, _je ne regrette rien._

Even at her worst, Jill Valentine took his breath away.

“But, you know..being ex-S.T.A.R.S. probably won’t get you out of a grand theft auto charge, either.” He gestured towards the hood of the truck through the windshield as he bit his cheek to hold in a laugh.

Jill rolled her eyes. “I’m sure there’s some clause in the law that absolves you from breaking into a rusted-out pickup truck in the zombie apocalypse.”

Chris was very well acquainted with her lockpicking abilities, but her ability to hotwire a vehicle had surprised him. It was strangely attractive, he decided...but, then again, _everything_ Jill did was sexy as far as he was concerned.

“How long has it been since you’ve been home?” She asked, shifting the subject.

“A little under two years.” Guilt welled up in him as though it were a confession. “I miss it.”

Jill’s hand danced across the empty space between them and she intertwined her fingers with his.

Wordlessly, they made their way to the suburbs, listening to the whip of the wind, the whine of the old engine, and Jill’s laughter as Chris shared stories of his childhood.

* * *

_“Oh, fuck off, Chris! It’s not like you don’t do shitty things too!”_

_A fifteen-year-old Claire rolled her eyes, arms angrily crossed over her chest. She stood in the doorway of the kitchen as she glared at her brother who sat at the table, posture ramrod straight with an infuriating level of authority._

_“I’m not saying I don’t do shitty things, Claire.” His voice was cool and calm despite her teenage shrieking. “I’m just saying I don’t want_ **_you_ ** _to do shitty things.”_

_He pointed to the case of beer that had been placed on display atop the kitchen table._

_“You shouldn’t be drinking at fifteen.”_

_Claire scoffed. “_ ** _Everyone_ ** _at my school drinks, Chris. You’re not dad, so stop acting like you are!”_

_Chris’s jaw tightened and he allowed his eyes to slip shut as he took in a slow, deep breath._

_“If you’re going to do stupid shit, do it here, not at some stupid fucking party with a bunch of horny older teenage boys who are going to take advantage of you or, even worse, kill you in a stupid fucking car accident because one is too proud to call his mom to pick him up after getting shitfaced!”_

_He punctuated his command with a loud bang of his fist against the surface of the table._

_“I mean...shit, Claire. You don’t have to believe me, but I was a teenage boy once, too. I_ **_know_** _. If you wanna drink, do it here, alright? I can’t afford for some dumb shit to happen to you too.”_

_And with that he stepped outside, letting the back door slam behind him._

_“Fucking jerk.” Claire spat, her face stinging with shame and damp with tears of frustration._

* * *

 The sound of something being dragged across a floor abruptly tore Leon from his sleep. He sat upright in bed, hyperalert as he attempted to make out the sound of anything _but_ the deafening silence of the night.

Had he imagined it?

After a few moments of continued silence, he began to lower himself back to the bed, but was quickly roused once more by the _thud_ that came from above, almost as if something had been dropped.

Someone...or _something_ was in the attic.

He gave himself a quick slap to the face and hissed, wincing at the residual sting that the strike left behind. This time, he was certain that he wasn’t dreaming. Quickly, he reached for the Matilda he kept stuffed beneath his pillow and climbed out of the bed, dressed in only a pair of sweatpants.

With his back to the wall, he tiptoed down the hallway, pistol drawn and ready. The ladder leading up to the attic had been extended, the hatch above left wide open. He craned his neck to peer up into it, hoping to make out a semblance of _anything_ from his vantage point.

No luck.

With his heart hammering in his chest, he made his way up the ladder, handgun pointed forward and ready, lest his attacker drop in on him.

When he made his way to the top unscathed, he let out a long sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank god.” He murmured, and Claire whipped around, surprise written all over her face. She hadn’t expected a visitor.

She was sitting on the attic floor and rummaging through a dilapidated cardboard box that had seen better days.

“Claire, what the hell? It’s two in the morning. I thought you were a criminal!” Leon ran a hand over his face in exasperation.

Claire smiled sheepishly, bright eyes soft with apology.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She said matter-of-factly, as if it were a completely justifiable reason to be digging through the attic before dawn.

The shine of metal caught his attention and he stepped forward to peek into the box. His curiousness was rewarded with the sight of dark blue fabric adorned with several badges.

He could only assume it was her brother’s dress uniform.

“Claire…” He placed a careful hand on her shoulder as he kneeled down beside her.

Her hand rose to find his and a wet sigh escaped from between her lips. Leon realized she had been crying, and it hit him like the force of a freight train.

“What if he didn’t make it, Leon?” The pitch of her voice was higher than usual, a little frantic. She clenched her eyes shut and her face transformed into a grimace as she held in a sob.

_What if he didn’t?_

Leon didn’t know what to say.

“Come on, Claire.” He leaned forward to steal a glance at her face. “He’s a Redfield! And you said he was S.T.A.R.S! There’s no way he didn’t make it out.”

He prayed to every deity he could think of to _please_ make his words the truth. After all she had done, Claire deserved at _least_ that.

Claire swatted at the tears that clung to her eyelashes and sniveled. “Yeah…”

When she turned to face him, her face was splotchy and red, eyelids a little swollen with tears. She smiled weakly, dabbing at her eyes one last time with her sleeve, and pulled him into a quick embrace.

“I’m glad you made it out.” She whispered, and Leon dropped his handgun to pull her flush to his chest.

“You’ll always have me.” He murmured as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

* * *

  _“Come on, Chris...don’t you care about your baby sister?”_

_Claire was sprawled out on the lofted twin mattress, phone pressed to her ear as she stared up at the ceiling of her dorm. With her free hand, she watched the flicker of flame as she flipped the switch of the lighter she had swiped from Chris at their last meeting._

_“Fine.” She heard Chris sigh on the other end of the phone line and she grinned to herself, having struck a victory._

_At only seventeen, she was probably far too irresponsible to be living independently on her own. Her bank account was a testament of that. Yeah, she knew she had to eat and everything, but this new survival horror game had just dropped and…_

_Well, maybe she didn’t think about having to survive in the real world at the time._

_“You owe me though.” She knew it was an empty threat, but she agreed anyway._

_“You know I love you, right, Chris?” It was genuine, despite the context, and the rumble of his laughter made her smile brightly._

_“You love my wallet, Claire.” She knew he was smiling too. “You’re gonna be real sorry when I find a girl to spoil and can’t support your sushi binges anymore.”_

_Claire snorted and rolled her eyes despite knowing he couldn’t see it._

_“Like any woman would want to date an ape like you.”_

_His chuckle was the last thing she heard before she hung up, her stomach loudly rumbling._

* * *

 “It’s cute.” Jill remarked as Chris killed the engine of the truck. Her compliment of the home gave him a strange sense of pride. He considered its upkeep to be one of his greatest accomplishments, having initially undertaken the job at the ripe age of eleven.

“How many bones did you break jumping out of the tree as a kid?” She asked as she climbed out of the vehicle, eyeing the willow tree that towered in the front yard.

“Only two.” He admitted as he retrieved their bags, slinging them over a shoulder with ease.

The comfort of nostalgia washed over him as he made his way onto the veranda, clearing the steps with ease. He paused to study the front of the house, eyes sweeping over the rocks that adorned its face. As kids, he and Claire had a running argument about how many they had counted.

Claire was positive it was a thousand.

He smiled to himself at the memory as he fumbled through his keyring.

Before he had a chance to locate the key, the front door swung open, and he was met with a pistol pointed directly in his face.

Chris didn’t hesitate to draw his own, mood effectively ruined as he snarled at the blonde man in front of him.

"Who the  _fuck_ are you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not crying, you're crying! Thanks so much for the overwhelming kindness, everyone. I'm so grateful for each and every one of you. I never expected that my stupid Cleon drabbles would be so well-received.
> 
> Also, don't worry...I promise I'm not going to kill Leon.
> 
> A huge thanks goes out to [Kristin S.](http://www.kcarella.daportfolio.com/), who decided to provide some incredible illustrations to accompany this work! She's incredibly talented - please check her out on [Instagram](http://www.instagram.com/solitaryzombie), [twitter](https://twitter.com/solitaryzombie), or hit up her [linktr.ee](https://linktr.ee/solitaryzombie) to show her some love!


	8. Interrogation

If he thought being in Raccoon City at the time of the outbreak was unlucky, Leon was sorely mistaken. _This_ was probably the most unlucky moment of his life and he cursed himself for not heading into town with Claire and Sherry to shop. Yeah, Lickers, zombies, and fedora-sporting tyrant variants were pretty awful, but they didn’t quite hold a candle to this.

Leon found himself pinned to the ground, forced into submission with the nastiest arm bar he had ever witnessed to date. He let out a hiss of pain as his assailant pressed against his elbow, causing tendons to stretch to their limit.

“I’m a fucking cop, you know.” Leon spat, staring hard at his Matilda that had slid just _barely_ out of reach when the human hulk of a man outmaneuvered him and tackled him to the ground.

The declaration earned a laugh from Chris, who only tightened his grip on Leon.

“Cop my ass.” His voice was like venom and he pushed down with the heel of his boot, somehow shoving Leon even more roughly into the hardwood flooring. “You’re a shitty one, if that’s the case.”

That pissed him off. With his rekindled rage, Leon attempted to thrust his hips forward to toss the man off of him, but his weight didn’t even remotely budge. How much did this asshole weigh?

The woman who accompanied him padded over to the pair softly and knelt down beside him. Her eyes were impossibly blue, light like ice but soft with apology. Were he not distracted by the pain that shot through his arm with each breath he took, he might have thought she was pretty, or that she seemed a hell of a lot nicer than the jerk she was traveling with.

“Is this really necessary?” She tilted her head to the side as she surveyed the men and Chris only gritted his teeth as he nodded.

She sighed and shook her head in disdain, but a small smile still graced her full lips. “Being ex-S.T.A.R.S. won’t get you out of a murder charge, either, you know.”

Leon’s struggling came to an abrupt halt as he processed the woman’s words. _S.T.A.R.S?_

**_Ex_** _-S.T.A.R.S._ He clarified to himself. _Gee, I wonder why?_

“I'm RPD too, you jackass!” Leon shouted, twisting beneath his hold. Not a single skill in his arsenal was enough to loosen his restraint on him, and Leon sighed with defeat.

“Hey, kid, if you're gonna lie, pick a precinct that still exists.” He laughed bitterly. “There is no Raccoon City anymore.”

Leon rolled his eyes and relaxed beneath him. There was no way he could overpower him, but maybe he could catch him off guard.

“Yeah, guy, I _know_. I was there when it blew up.”

Jill raised a curious eyebrow and sat on the floor beside them. With her legs crossed, she rested her elbows on her knees and loosely clasped her hands together. For a moment, she simply studied him.

“How did you get out of Raccoon?” She spoke cooly, voice calm and even. If he weren't being smothered by the weight of a damn _behemoth,_ it might have put him at ease.

“Very carefully?” His tone was sarcastic and it earned a knee to the ribs from Chris. Leon winced and grunted. “I made it out with this girl...who has a brother in S.T.A.R.S., by the way. We're on the same side, guy.”

Her mind reeled at the comment. The number of remaining male S.T.A.R.S. was an incredibly short list. Barry didn't have a sister, and…

The realization flashed across her face and she bit her lower lip gently, holding in a fit of laughter. How had she not put it together sooner?

“Chris, he's talking about your sister. He's here with your _sister_.”

Chris shook his head. “Bullshit. Claire wasn't in Raccoon and she had n--”

“ _Claire Redfield_ was looking for _you_ in Raccoon, and that's exactly who I'm talking about!”

Leon's frustration was at an all-time high. _This_ asshole was the infamous brother Claire boasted so fondly about?

Before he could even register the movement, Chris flipped him over, pinning him prone against the ground.

“You've got a lot of explaining to do, _RPD_.” He hissed, breath hot and sharp against Leon's ear.

Leon contemplated bashing his own head against the flooring to put himself out of his own misery.

“Fuck me.” He mumbled beneath his breath.

“Nah, I'll pass.” Chris retorted cheekily and hoisted him off the ground roughly while kicking Leon's pistol further away, causing it to skirt beneath the couch.

He shoved him into one of the kitchen chairs as unceremoniously as possible and promptly restrained him to it with a zip tie.

_Pretty smart to carry zip ties around._ Leon couldn't even be mad at that. If he survived, he figured he ought to do the same. _No wonder Claire is so resourceful._

Jill made her way into the kitchen and silently settled herself into the chair across from him. Chris, however, continued to hover over him, arms crossed against the impressive breadth of his chest.

“Where's Claire?” He asked, voice rough as gravel.

“She took Sherry to get groceries. I swear she's fine. She'll be back soon.”

Chris shifted his weight on his feet.

“Who's Sherry?”

Leon sighed.

“She's the daughter of an Umbrella scientist who infected himself. Claire saved her and killed the girl's dad.” Leon paused, mulling over what to say next. “She's tough. You did a good job raising her.”

Might as well try to butter him up, right?

“Oh, shut the hell up. You don't know shit.” The agitation in his voice was enough to make him flinch.

Jill patted the empty chair beside hers lightly. “Come on, Chris. Sit down and relax.”

Chris's dark eyes flitted from Leon's face to Jill's, where his expression softened. After a moment's deliberation, he surrendered and moved to sit beside her.

“Raccoon City was destroyed in September. It's the end of November. Why are you still with my sister?”

Though he was sitting, Chris was still intimidating as hell. Leon truly didn't recognize him from the photos on the walls. It appeared that Chris had filled out his jawline and gained about half his body weight in muscle in the six years that Claire's obsessive picture taking had lulled.

_Terrifying_.

“I just wanted to keep her safe.”

It wasn't a lie, but Chris leaned back in the chair and nearly bore holes in Leon's face with his glare.

“Claire can fend for herself.”

Leon wasn't going to dispute that. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that Claire would have made it out of Raccoon without him. She was tougher than most men he had met, and her stubbornness was both a blessing and a curse as far as her bravado was concerned.  

_Maybe you need her more than she needs you, Kennedy._

The realization made him feel ill. Of _course_ that was the case. He shifted anxiously in his chair, suddenly feeling strangely inadequate, almost as if he were being studied beneath a microscope lens.

Jill smiled sadly, her apology still dancing through her bright eyes. Leon wondered who she was to be traipsing about in the aftermath of the outbreak with a guy like Chris. Maybe she was just as psychotic as he was. First impressions didn't always mean much.

Leon tilted his head back, allowing the base of his skull to rest on the back of the chair in the most comfortable way he could muster. With his eyes closed, he did his best to ignore his predicament and the company of Claire's _insane_ brother.

The sound of the front door swinging open and colliding against the wall tore him from his musings and he craned his neck in an attempt to peek around the corner of the wall. Both Chris and Jill rose from their chairs in defense, and Claire sprinted into the room, revolver drawn and a serious expression plastered on her face.

Within seconds, she relaxed, and a gasp tore from her lips as she practically flung herself into Chris. The force of her collision against his chest winded him and he grunted in response, but didn't hesitate to encircle her with his arms.

“Oh my god, Chris…”

Claire's face was buried in his chest and she laughed, the sound interrupted by a short, quiet sob. Her fingers found fistfuls of the back of his shirt and she let out another wet laugh.

“I went to Raccoon to find you but you weren't _there_ and I thought you were _dead_ and there were fucking _zombies,_ but not like Hollywood zombies...they were like stupid fucking zombies and this crazy fucker was there and…”

Her rambling came to a halt once she had pulled away and caught sight of Leon.

“Chris, what the _hell_?!”

Leon repositioned himself as best he could in the chair and gave Claire an awkward, embarrassed smile. “Hey, Claire.”

Her expression changed to one of irritation. Claire pulled her lips into a pout and furrowed her brow as she angrily pointed at her older brother.

“What the hell is this?”

Chris simply shrugged flippantly.

“Just an interrogation. You know...S.T.A.R.S.-style.”

Sherry, who had largely gone unnoticed, made herself aware. “Oh, I've seen this in a movie once.”

The sight of the girl elicited a curious stare from Chris and Claire swatted the air with her hand as if shooing him away. “I'll explain later after you unrestrain your _hostage_ here!”

Chris grumbled under his breath, but surrendered. With a quick flick of a pocket knife, he released Leon from his restraints. Both of the men appeared less than thrilled with the events that had unfolded.

Sherry came to stand before Chris, chin tilted upwards to study the man who towered over her. For a moment, the sight of Sherry’s round, powder blue eyes reminded him of a younger Claire.

“Are you Claire’s brother?” The girl asked.

Chris squatted down to her level and ruffled her pale locks.

“You bet.”

Sherry’s eyes widened and she stared at him, gaze scrutinizing every inch of him. He looked a _lot_ different than the pictures she saw of him. Chris had dark hair like Claire did, but his eyes and skin were darker, and he was a _heck_ of a lot bigger than any guy she had ever seen.

She didn’t know adults still grew.

“I heard you’re really cool.” She cooed and Chris laughed nervously.

“Nah, Claire is way more fun than I am.”

Claire wasn’t going to dispute that. Chris was a paranoid _jerk_ lately.

Sherry’s stare shifted from Chris to Leon, and then back again.

“Are you gonna arrest Leon?” She asked, and before she could finish, she added, “Cuz if you are, I wanna interrogate him like a cop in the movies too!”

Leon inwardly groaned. As if Claire wasn’t enough of a bad influence on Sherry, he could only imagine the effect Chris would have on her.

Chris let out another chuckle, but he shook his head in response to her question.

“No, I’m not going to arrest him...but if he isn’t careful, I _will_ next time.”

Sherry gasped and gave Leon a warning look. “I wouldn’t wanna be arrested if I were you.”

* * *

 “ _Why_ would you come to Raccoon?”

Chris’s voice was quiet, pained by the notion that Claire had come looking for him. Claire had laid a blanket out on the lawn in the backyard and the two were sprawled out, staring up at the night sky as they often had in childhood.

In the distance, they could make out the muffled sound of Sherry’s laughter as she assisted Jill and Leon with cleaning up dinner.

“You weren’t answering your phone and I was worried.”

She didn’t miss a beat with her explanation. If she failed to return even _one_ of his calls, she figured he would have burned down the entire campus to find her.

Chris shifted beside her and cleared his throat quietly.

“I was trapped in a coworker’s apartment waiting for the initial chaos to die down.”

Though he couldn’t see it, a coy smile graced Claire’s face.

“You mean _Jill’s_ apartment, right?”

The crackling of the small fire Chris had started in the brazier nearby was her only answer. Claire turned her head to the side to steal a glance at Chris, who continued to stargaze with an uncharacteristic stoicness.

Claire snickered.

“Come on, Chris. I’ve seen the way you look at her. You’re not _just_ partners.”

Chris felt his heart skip a beat. Both the heat of the flames and the bite of the cold worked in his favor to conceal the true reason for the stain of pink he felt singe his cheeks. Simply referring to Jill as his work partner would have been an insult, he figured, after all they had been through.

_And_ , he thought, _you don’t typically fuck your coworker._

He coughed.

“How did you meet Kennedy?”

The sudden shift in conversation irritated her, but Claire chose not to push the issue. It was a topic they would certainly revisit later, but, for now, she’d let Chris off the hook.

Not that he deserved it.

“I stopped at a gas station and...one of those _zombies_ was inside. The clerk had been bitten and turned before I could make it out and Leon was coming in and…”

Claire shrugged to herself in the near darkness.

“He probably saved me. We met up at the police station. I met one of your coworkers there...Marvin.”

“Did he…?”

Claire shook her head.

“It was too late. He was injured when I met him and…”

Her voice was soft like an apology.

“I couldn’t leave him like that, so I did what I had to do.”

Marvin would have wanted that. There was no doubt about it. Despite how fucked up it all was, Chris felt a little prideful about his sister’s bravery. He didn’t suppose many would be so well-adjusted in such a short span of time.

“Well, fuck me. I guess trading algebra homework for video games actually _did_ do you some good after all.”

There was humor in his voice and Claire nudged him in the ribs, the jab coming a little harder than intended. Chris placed a hand over his side and allowed his face to shift into an exaggerated expression of pain.

“Fuck, Claire. I think you _broke_ my ribs.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Oh please. Go get Jill to kiss it better for you, you bitch.”

Chris feigned a sob and she laughed.

This time, it _definitely_ felt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos, notes, messages, follows, and bookmarks. :') I cry every time.
> 
> A huge thanks goes out to [Kristin S.](http://www.kcarella.daportfolio.com/), who decided to provide some incredible illustrations to accompany this work! She's incredibly talented - please check her out on [Instagram](http://www.instagram.com/solitaryzombie), [twitter](https://twitter.com/solitaryzombie), or hit up her [linktr.ee](https://linktr.ee/solitaryzombie) to show her some love!


	9. Lost

As far as Leon was concerned, no form of therapy could hold a candle to that of the relief of enduring a long run. Though his relationship with cardio was bittersweet and he spent majority of the actual run cursing at himself, he was always grateful for having subjected himself to such torture afterwards.

It had been two days since Claire's brother had shown up and Leon found himself perpetually on edge. Between the snide commentary, hard glares, and passive-aggressive death threats, Leon couldn't be sure which was worst. All he knew was that he was eternally grateful for Jill, who seemed to be the only one capable of even remotely placating Chris.

Leon wasn't quite sure what he had done to deserve Chris's wrath in the first place. Sure, he had pulled a gun on him _initially,_ but, in his defense, he had no idea who the guy was. There was nothing wrong with employing caution and, if anything, he thought Chris should be _appreciative_ of his vigilance. Yeah, Claire could take care of herself, but it didn't hurt to have a well-trained partner by her side, either.

With a grunt, Leon placed a palm to his side in an attempt to ease the stitch that had formed. His breath came in ragged pants and he felt sweat trickle down the back of his neck as he held his eyes closed to focus on the rapid beating of his heart. He had _almost_ made it back to the house, but he had also gone further this time, too. This run could still be considered a victory in his book.

And, you know, _Chris_ probably couldn't run that fast, not with all bulky muscle he had accumulated. Chris could probably out-bench him, yeah, but he figured he would out-run Chris with ease, and which was more important when facing a horde of zombies?

Not that he was competing or anything. It was just a comparative observation. It's important to analyze both the strengths and weaknesses of your team in order to succeed. He was sure Chris would be helpful if he ever needed to...move a giant rock or something.

The thought made him laugh to himself and he shook his head at the mental image. The differences between Chris and Claire were absolutely jarring. Chris was hotheaded, angry, and likely carried grudges across the span of a lifetime. Claire was stubborn, yes, but tough, altruistic, and carefree in most things that she did.

He still found it difficult to believe that she was a product of Chris’s attempt at impromptu parenting.

“ ** _Leon_**!”

The sound of Claire’s voice caused him to whip his entire body in her presumed direction with such haste that he winced as the stitch in his side was pulled taut. Despite the pain, he didn’t find himself having to force a smile at the sight of her as she sprinted down the hill in his direction. Her ability to shove metaphoric weight off of his shoulders was effortless and impressed him every time he was around her.

His mood quickly soured as she came close enough to make out the details of her face. Anxiety didn’t suit Claire--not with that furrowed brow, hard frown, and frantic gaze.

“Is Sherry with you?” She asked, a little breathless as she stood on her tiptoes to peek into the distance beyond Leon’s shoulder.

He looked back, following her stare. Nothing but the long strip of barren road and the skeletons of trees were to be found.

Leon looked back at her, confused. “No…?”

Claire cursed under her breath and hissed, hands thrown into the air in a defeated gesture. For a fleeting moment, Leon was almost convinced that he saw a flash of wetness in her eyes as she surveyed the area around them with a swift turn of her head. He watched her worry her lower lip between her teeth, the skin quickly growing flushed and swollen from the abuse.

She was surprised to find that he stepped in close, his palms enveloping the curves of her shoulders with ease. Despite the cool, crisp air, his skin remained impossibly warm, and Claire felt the tension in her muscles begin to lessen immediately, but her mind continued to race.

Maybe, under other circumstances, she would have enjoyed his touch.

“Oh god, Leon…” Her voice was low and pained, and she shook her head as if attempting to thrust her errant thoughts from her mind, “Sherry’s _missing_.”

Her panicked declaration echoed through his head a few times, but it didn’t make sense for Sherry to go missing. First of all, where the hell would she have gone out here in the midst of nowhere? Second of all, why would she leave? Unless Umbrella somehow made it out to the middle of nowhere, it’s not like anyone would have kidna--

Oh _shit._

Umbrella wouldn’t take Sherry, would they? More importantly, Claire doesn’t think Umbrella would take Sherry, did she? Well, maybe even _most_ importantly, Umbrella didn’t take Sherry…

Did they?

Leon felt himself nearly go into a state of hysteria.

_Come on, Kennedy. Innocent until proven guilty. You don’t know anything yet._

He forced himself to breathe deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth, in an attempt to will himself to find peace. Times like this required a clear mind and the last thing he needed to do was let Claire know about his half-baked conspiracy theory behind Sherry’s disappearance.

“Are you sure though?” He tried his best to sound suave. “Maybe she’s sleeping or something and you didn’t see her?”

Claire felt the urge to clock him right in his pretty mouth. Of _fucking_ course she was sure. She had turned the house over no less than three times while screaming her name like a maniac.

“Do you think I’m a dumbass, Leon?” She asked, the coolness of her voice somehow inspiring more fear in him.

That was a rhetorical question, right? Leon swallowed hard and shook his head.

“No! I, uh... _fuck,_ Claire, I’m sure she’s fine.”

“And if she’s _not_?” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him an expectant glare.

Was this an interrogation? Great. Maybe Chris had more influence on Claire than he had realized…

“Then...you’ll kick someones ass?” His voice quivered just slightly at the prospect of enduring more Redfield verbal abuse.

Claire contain the smirk that crept its way onto her face.

“You have no idea just how fucking _sorry_ they’ll be.”

* * *

 He wasn't going to admit it aloud, but Leon had absolutely no clue as to what he was doing. Tracking someone through the woods was not a well-trained talent that he carried in his skill set, but he didn't want to confess to Claire that he was a born and raised city boy in the off chance that Chris had wiretapped either one of them and was eavesdropping from afar.

Honestly, it wasn't that far-fetched. The guy carried zip ties around, for crying out loud.

The crunching of the dead leaves beneath their feet filled the silence they shared. Claire's expression remained serious as her pale eyes swept their surroundings for any sign of Sherry. He wondered what type of grim thoughts were running through her mind.

“You know,” he said, fumbling to find a distraction to ease her troubled mind, “I got lost once as a kid.”

He laughed to himself - a deep, hearty sound that warmed her from the inside out. It wasn't often that she heard him laugh, but Claire found that it took her by surprise every time that he did.

“I was in grade school...first grade maybe. Classes let out early because of a water leak. The babysitter usually picked me up from school so I wasn't sure which bus to take. I tried to call my mom but she was too busy at work to answer.”

He smiled wryly and continued.

“I decided to walk and, needless to say, I got lost. Ended up in the heart of downtown with no idea where to go.”

It was a ridiculous image in her head - a pint-sized version of adult Leon aimlessly wandering around town with a supermodel-like face and a Power Rangers backpack slung over his shoulder. Claire couldn't keep from giggling.

“I guess someone noticed me because a police officer came up to me and started asking about my mom. I remember thinking he was the coolest guy I had ever seen with his neatly polished badge and the gun on his hip.”

 _I remember wishing he was my dad._ Leon thought bitterly, and he debated on whether or not revealing a more intimate part of him was appropriate.

“I remember wishing he was my dad.” He blurted out before his mind could reach a consensus.

Claire made a small sound in the back of her throat, something that he couldn't quite decipher the meaning of. He took a few more paces before clearing his throat to continue.

“He let me hang out at the police station with him until my mom got off work. It was probably the coolest experience of my childhood to see all the hustle and bustle of the station and to be surrounded by so many people who seemed like superheroes in my child mind.”

It was touching to her in many ways. Leon had mentioned that he was an only child to a single mother, but never more than that. This small window into his private life made her suspect that, perhaps, the close relationship between mother and son that she had envisioned couldn't have been further from reality.

“Let me guess - you've wanted to be a cop since first grade.”

Leon chuckled, “How'd you know?”

Either Sherry hadn't come through the woods or they overlooked signs that she had meandered through them. Crestfallen, Claire agreed to return to the house in case Sherry had made her way back. She wanted to notify the local authorities, but she quickly realized it would likely end poorly for both of them - _yes, officer, the girl who I kidnapped after killing her father has gone missing and I was hoping you could help out._

“You don't think…” Claire took a brief pause to will herself to verbalize her fears, “...that Umbrella found her, do you?”

“Uhh, no! Of course not!” Leon hoped he sounded at least _somewhat_ convincing.

As the house came into view, Claire caught the blurred silhouette of Sherry on the porch in the distance, and she immediately broke out into a full sprint.

Sherry was taken by surprise as Claire lifted her into a hug and all but crushed her to her chest, one arm looped around her back and the other extended to cradle the back of her head with her palm. Though it was delayed, Sherry encircled Claire with her arms as best she could, but gave Leon a perplexed expression as she mouthed _what is going on?_

She did not expect the angry look on Claire's face once she set her back onto the porch.

“Where the _heck_ were you? You scared me to death!”

“I went for a walk…” Sherry answered, voice made meek by the harsh, scolding tone Claire had adopted.

“You have to tell us if you go anywhere, Sherry. It's not safe.” Leon stepped in and placed a reassuring hand on Claire's shoulder as he spoke calmly.

Sherry truly didn't see what the big deal was. Her parents never caused a fuss when she went for walks. In fact, they usually didn't even notice.

“Soooooorry…” She phrased it more as a question than an apology.

Leon squatted down in front of her and placed a palm to her upper arm.

“Clai--no, _we_ just care about you a lot and don't want anything bad to happen to you, Sherry. We don't mind you taking a walk, but we need to know if you plan on doing something, okay?”

Sherry wasn't sure what to think, but she felt a warmth bloom to life in her chest.

So _this_ is what it was like to have someone care about you.

Sherry decided that she liked it.

* * *

 It was late, but Claire found herself perched on the edge of the steps of the front porch as she nursed a beer and stared out at the front yard. Her reaction to Sherry’s unexpected disappearance earlier surprised her and, in a way, scared her a little. She had never considered having children of her own in the future and the sudden development of such a fiercely maternal instinct caught her off guard.

She wrinkled her nose in disdain as she took another sip of her beer. It wasn’t her typical alcohol of choice, but she couldn’t complain about the lightness that was beginning to fill her troubled mind with each consecutive bottle. A lot of things had changed since going to Raccoon City and she wondered if she was even half of the person she used to be. Hell, for all she knew, she actually _did_ like beer now.

After all, she felt like a stranger in her own skin these days.

With a sigh, she leaned forward to prop her elbows up on her knees and bury her face in her hands. What came next? She didn’t know. Sherry had to go to school and needed about a thousand things that she couldn’t afford. The girl needed _real_ parents--like, actual _adult_ parents with _adult_ jobs and _adult_ money.

How would she even break it to her?

Claire leaned back against the wood flooring of the porch and groaned. Surely Chris would know what to do. He had raised her, after all, and she turned out pretty okay. Jill seemed smart too. Maybe Jill would know where to take Sherry.

She felt something tug at her heart. Being separated from Sherry wouldn’t be easy, but, cognitively, she knew it was in the girl’s best interest.

Sherry deserved the best life could offer and Claire knew that she wasn’t it.

It made her feel sick.

She hadn’t even realized Leon had come outside until he settled down beside her. He sat on the edge of the porch and looked down at her, a concerned expression on his face.

“How are you doing?” He asked, a particular gentleness dancing in his eyes.

Was it _really_ fair for him to have such pretty eyes?

“Fuzzy.” She laughed as she answered. Did she have a buzz?

She found it difficult to look away from him. The full moon cast him in an almost ethereal glow, brightening the already impossibly light blue of his irises. The shadows of night accentuated the cut of his jaw and his high cheekbones, making him seem even more angular than usual. Despite the darkness, she could make out the dimple in his chin and the curve of his full lips.

Leon was so _pretty_. It wasn’t fair to waste _pretty_ on a man.

“I think…” She hiccuped, “I think I have a buzz.”

Leon chuckled and leaned over her to brush errant strands of her dark hair away from her eyes.

“Am I going to have to carry you to bed?” He meant for it to come off as an innocent question, but Claire wondered if it was a _different_ kind of tease.

“Depends. Are you staying with me?”

She looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, lips parted just slightly and cheeks flushed. Leon felt his heart skip a beat as her eyes fluttered closed and he found himself inching forward slowly, nearly closing the distance between the two of them.

“Your brother is going to slaughter me.” He murmured, his breath hot and moist as it fanned across the sensitive skin of her face.

“I won’t let him.” She mumbled, eyes still closed in anticipation.

“He’s bigger than both of us combined.”

“I can take him.” Claire may not have been able to bench press a small sedan, but she knew how to bat her eyelashes to get what she wanted.

Leon laughed and she felt it reverberate slowly through the pit of her belly. She whimpered softly and cracked open an eye to find the smooth edge of his face. Claire lifted her hand and trailed the pad of her index finger along the edge of his jaw and she grinned at him, all bright white teeth and blushes.

He was a patient man, but he was not infallible. Leon knew it was wrong the second his lips met hers, but her mouth was so _warm_ and she tasted rich and sweet like the malt she had been drinking. He felt her hand tangle in the back of his hair and she pulled him closer as she mewled into his mouth.

It was an opportunity that he could not deny himself of. Leon slipped his tongue between her parted lips in order to taste her more fully, discovering something that he couldn’t describe other than as being so very _Claire._ He shifted his body to hover over hers more properly and he slipped an arm behind her shoulders to carefully draw her closer.

Claire kissed him in all the ways he had once dreamt she would--hard and deep with that particular Redfield fierceness that she carried with her in all the things she did.

Despite every fiber of him being in objection, Leon forced himself to pull away.

“Wow.” His voice was huskier than usual and it caused a shiver to course through her spine.

“ _Wow_.” She lamely replied, her own voice so breathy that she didn’t even recognize it.

Maybe she was losing touch with herself and, yeah, surely Raccoon City had changed her in some way, but she now knew one thing was for certain… 

Somehow, Claire Redfield didn’t seem as lost while Leon was around.

Maybe change wasn’t a bad thing after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to FF.net user **kristindraws** , who made my entire year by gracing me with beautiful illustrations of some of her favorite scenes from this piece. Please check them out! You can find them on her Instagram (@solitaryzombie) or head back through this story to see them with their corresponding chapters. There are no words to express how much I appreciate what she did...
> 
> ...or how much I appreciate you all! Thank you so much! You humble me and I appreciate each and every one of your comments, kudos, and messages.


	10. Pride

“I don’t think it’s _really_ that appropriate to teach a twelve-year-old how to use a gun, Chris!” Claire harshly advised, somewhat disturbed at the mental image of Sherry holding a gun.

Chris sighed and gave her an indignant look, his expression dark and stoic enough to strike fear in just about anyone who wasn’t his sister.

“You do realize that I taught you how to shoot when you were eight, right?” He punctuated the sentence with a raise of an eyebrow, a cocky smile on his face as he waited for her response.

Claire clenched her fists at her side in frustration. Yes, she was well aware of how young she had been when she shot for the first time, but, somehow, it was _different_ with Sherry. Had it been anyone but her, she probably would have agreed, but, with Sherry, she felt an inexplicable urge to protect her from all the fucked up things life had to offer.

“She’s different, Chris.” She finally answered, sighing hard. “Sherry’s not like we were.”

“To be fair, the world isn't like it was back then, either.” Jill spoke softly from the couch as she observed the two argue.

Claire opened her mouth, her body moving faster than her mind, but she failed to concoct a decent argument. Jill was infuriatingly right, as she _always_ was. The only monsters they had hunted as children were the shadows that lingered in their closets.

“Fine,” She surrendered, “I still don't like it though.”

If anyone was to teach Sherry how to wield a gun, it ought to have been Chris - even Claire could admit that. He had received several accolades throughout his military and police careers for his marksmanship and, as a result, had been awarded with the position of pointman for S.T.A.R.S. alpha team. She could respect it, probably even more so now that she had been forced to fire a gun herself.

Incidentally, she supposed she was probably the least skilled in handling firearms amongst the lot of them. Though she did not know much about Jill, the fact that she was a member of S.T.A.R.S. implied an impressive level of skill, and she could only assume that accuracy was a requirement for the position. Leon, too, had been through formal police training, and there was no doubt that a specific level of proficiency was required.

She felt a little self-conscious. “Over 100 confirmed zombie kills” wasn't necessarily something that could be listed on a resume and she wasn’t sure that it gained her any type of honorary medal of honor.

“I'll set up targets out back,” She offered, “But if either of you get shot, I'm going to kill you.”

Chris laughed, mostly because the possibility of him mishandling a firearm was a complete joke.

Yeah, maybe the world had changed, but at least some things remained the same...Claire's temper being one of them.

* * *

 “The first rule of using a gun is that the gun is always loaded, even if you know it isn't.”

Sherry was perched on her usual tree stump out back with Chris beside her, blue eyes wide with interest as she watched his movements. The way he flipped open the cylinder of Claire's revolver seemed effortless, and he gestured towards the empty slots within it.

It was an exciting moment for her, not because she was learning to potentially _kill_ someone, but because it was something that Claire and Leon _totally_ didn’t want her to do. She respected them both, but Chris and Jill were adults _too_ and they said it would be okay. Being told no really only made Sherry want to do something more and the fact that Chris was the one showing her was neat.

Maybe Chris was even cooler than Claire?

That would be a tough thing to accomplish.

“Some types of guns may have a bullet trapped in the chamber and can fire even if you think it's unloaded.”

She nodded as she listened, echoing his lesson, “All guns are loaded guns. Got it.”

Chris nodded curtly, a particular seriousness overcoming him as he taught the girl. He gestured towards the end of the barrel, the revolver pointed towards the ground.

“The second rule is that you _never_ point a gun at someone unless you mean it. If you point a gun at someone, that means you're prepared to shoot them.”

Sherry swallowed hard. She had seen Claire shoot plenty of creatures, but the idea of having to shoot _anything_ herself was daunting, to say the least.

“Don't point it unless you mean it.” She repeated, voice a little shaken by the memory of Irons pointing a gun at Claire’s head back in the parking garage.

“Hey,” Chris patted her on the back lightly, the length of his hand nearly engulfing the entire width between her shoulder blades, “This is for worst case scenario self-defense. You won't have to shoot anybody with three cops and Claire-the-Barbarian around.”

Sherry grinned, feeling a sense of relief come over her. He _did_ have a point. Claire saved her plenty of times and Chris seemed like he knew what he was doing. He probably shot, like...a million people. Wasn’t he a soldier or something? Cops shoot people too, right?

“Have you ever shot anyone?” She asked, eyes fixed on his hands as he loaded the revolver slowly, demonstrating for her.

He paused for a moment and reflected on the question.

“I've shot a lot of monsters.”

Sherry shook her head, a little annoyed.

“I know you shot monsters but...have you ever shot a _person_?”

Chris fumbled with the final bullet. It was a question that he had not expected her to ask and, more importantly, one he wasn't sure that he wanted to answer. Technically, some people _could_ be considered monsters. Maybe he could put some whimsical twist on it.

“Well…”

“You _have_!” She exclaimed, not out of shock, but as an accusation. She was _twelve_ , for crying out loud, and she could handle the truth.

Chris sighed and ran a palm over his face in exasperation. _Fuck._

“Sometimes, bad people do bad things and they ne--”

“Yeah,” Sherry interrupted, “I know. My dad was a bad person and...he got shot. A lot.”

Chris was quickly learning that interacting with children was not one of his talents. He had never given the prospect of having his own children any thought, but, if this exchange with Sherry was any inclination of what was to come, he figured he could absolutely erase fatherhood from his bucket list.

He opted to shift the conversation entirely.

“Well, uh...when you shoot, you need to hold the gun with both hands and make sure you have stable footing.” He positioned himself for her to observe, arms extended before him with the revolver held securely in his grasp.

“You don't always have to be right on the money, but if you're going to shoot someone...make it count. Try to hit somewhere that ensures they can't shoot you back.”

He cringed at the morbidity of his advice. It didn’t make him a shitty person to teach a kid how to win in a firefight - it could potentially save her life someday.

Right?

“Like...in the face?” Sherry suggested, bouncing to her feet with excitement.

“Uh…” He doubted her accuracy, but he couldn't argue that it was _definitely_ a way to keep an assailant from shooting back. “Yeah, but...save that for the zombies, alright?”

Later, he'd have to ask Claire more details about exactly what had transpired in Raccoon City. His delay in learning the truth was not a result of procrastination, but because Jill had persuaded him to hold off - _“She'll tell you when she's ready, Chris. Give her some time.”_

Had Jill not kept a watchful eye on him, Chris couldn't say he wouldn't have beaten the truth out of Kennedy the first moment he had the chance.

“You see that bottle over there?” He asked, gesturing out towards the bottle set furthest out. Sherry had to squint a little to make out the label on the front and she wondered if it was really even possible to hit it from such a distance.

“Yeah...it’s really far.”

Chris shrugged with a distinctive confidence and Sherry figured yeah, Chris was _definitely_ cooler than Leon, if no one else.

“Watch closely.” He advised, “Pulling the trigger isn’t as easy as you think. It’s a safety mechanism. When you pull it, you _really_ have to pull it. Don’t be gentle about it.”

Sherry heard the bullet strike, but she never saw the glass shatter. The moment the shot rang out, the bottle seemed to have vanished into thin air. She thought it was pretty neat.

“Wow.” Her voice was soft with wonder and Chris shook his head, feeling as though her amazement was displaced.

“Come on,” He waved her over and pointed to the closest bottle, only about 10 feet out, “Your turn.”

Sherry could hear her heart pounding in her ears as Chris helped her position herself, the heavy weight of the gun putting unexpected strain on her wrists. Chris wrapped his hands around hers to assist her in lifting the barrel of the gun, and she held it steady when he pulled away.

“You've got this.” He assured her, an encouraging smile on his face.

When the bottle shattered into pieces right before her eyes, Sherry let out a loud cheer. Had she _really_ done that herself? She couldn't believe it.

When she looked over at Chris, he had a smirk on his face, his pride in her performance apparent.

“Great job, kid.” He came close to ruffle her hair appreciatively.

Sherry felt butterflies take flight in the cavern of her belly.

“You know, I don’t think I even knew how to shoot a gun when I was your age.”

Sherry hadn’t noticed Jill approach and was surprised to find that she was standing beside her, hand shielding her eyes from the sun as she assessed Sherry’s marksmanship.

“No way.” Sherry found her claim to be difficult to swallow.

Jill smiled warmly and laughed, “Seriously! I'm very impressed.”

 _Impressed_. Sherry repeated the word in her mind over and over, almost as if she was learning a new language.

Chris and Jill were _impressed_ by her.

That was something she had never heard before and, the more she thought about it, the more she felt her heart swell with excitement.

* * *

 At dinner, Sherry could hardly keep from knocking over her chair as she bounced with excitement.

“You’ll never guess what!” She didn’t have the patience to allow her audience to speculate, “I hit the target on my first try today!”

Claire’s stare flitted over at Chris, who nodded to confirm. She grinned and leaned over to pull Sherry into a warm hug and Leon offered her a thumbs up.

“I’m so proud of you, Sherry!”

“ _We’re_ proud of you.” Leon corrected, grinning at the younger girl.

There it was again - that funny, warm, fuzzy feeling.

Sherry couldn’t wipe the smile away even as Claire released her from the embrace.

“I learned a lot today.” She reported, a pensive look on her face. “Chris knows a lot about guns.”

She paused for a moment, mulling over the lessons she had learned. Though he had attempted to put her at ease, Sherry couldn’t keep from thinking about the way Irons had pointed a pistol directly in Claire’s face. Was it a bluff to get his way or would he have truly shot Claire? Chris said the rule was to only point it if you mean it.

Why would he shoot someone he didn’t even know?

“Hey...Claire?”

“What’s up?” Claire seemed concerned by the sudden meekness to the girl’s voice.

“Chris said you should never point a gun at someone unless you’re sure you’re going to shoot them. Does that mean...Mr. Irons was _really_ going to shoot you in the parking garage?”

Chris’s fork clattered against his plate and he leaned forward, eyes narrowed as if the focus would somehow improve his understanding of what Sherry had said.

“ _What_ did you say?” The gruffness of his voice reminded her that, not only was Chris Claire’s brother, but he was a _cop_ too.

Jill’s lips were parted slightly in horror and Leon’s jaw was set hard. Someone had nearly _shot_ Claire and neither of the girls had told him?

Sherry felt the sting of fear as she realized that everyone’s attention was focused on her. Had she done something wrong? All she did was ask a question…

“Um…this guy my dad used to know....Mr. Irons...he, um…did some bad things.”

Claire buried her face in her hands and attempted to psych herself up to endure Chris’s reaction.

“Sherry, do you mean the _Chief of Police_ Brian Irons?” Jill didn’t seem nearly as scary as Chris and Sherry much preferred telling _her_ the story.

“Yeah, he’s friends with my dad. Um, actually... _was_.”

Chris’s fist slammed against the table’s surface with such force that the dishes rattled and Sherry jumped with surprise. He frowned hard and paused to take a deep breath before muttering, “I knew I should have wrung that fucker’s neck when I had the chance.”

Leon felt a strange sense of disappointment wash over him. He had heard so many horrible things about Raccoon Police during this ordeal, but to know that the man who had hired him was not only _friends_ with Birkin, but also apparently threatened Claire was akin to a child discovering that Santa was no more than a festive fairytale. He felt as though the bottom had fallen out of his stomach and he swallowed, his face stinging with embarrassment.

Were _all_ police departments like this?

“What happened?” Jill asked as she placed a hand over Chris’s tightened fist, urging him to relax.

“We found the underground tunnel beneath the police department and ended up in the parking garage. I met Irons there and he held me at gunpoint and forced Sherry to tie me up. He didn’t shoot me. He took her to the orphanage, but…” Claire stared hard at Chris and deadpanned, “He’s dead now.”

Leon somehow felt hurt. She hadn’t divulged much of anything about what had happened to the two of them. Yeah, sure, he knew they ran into zombies and he saw Claire kill off Birkin, but she hadn’t mentioned _anyone_ or _anything_ else. He knew in some sense that pressuring her to reveal information would have been wrong, but he still felt an ache deep in his chest.

_You didn't mention Ada at first, either. Pot calling the kettle black much, Kennedy?_

Chris didn’t seem impressed by the news of Irons’ death.

“I had so many opportunities to kill that rat bastard and I fucking _knew_ he was involved in this shit somehow.”

Jill nudged him in the ribs and hissed, “ _Language_.”

“I didn't mean to make anyone mad.” Sherry lowered her head in the likeness of a dog being scolded over an accident.

“Nobody is mad.” Jill reassured her with a sympathetic smile, “We are just surprised because we thought he was working with Umbrella but couldn't prove it.”

“I feel really bad about what my dad did. He hurt everybody here.” Sherry couldn't bring herself to look anyone in the eye as she spoke. “I hope no one hates me because of him.”

Claire balked at the suggestion. Why Sherry would ever feel somehow responsible for her father's actions was beyond her, and the fact that she believed that _any_ of them would harbor enmity for her broke her heart.

Leon, too, struggled to understand why Sherry would consider such to be true. Though he did not express it to the same lengths as Claire did, he cared deeply for the girl. Had he somehow inspired her ill feelings by not explicitly verbalizing his care for her?

He opened his mouth to speak despite being unsure of what to say, but Jill thankfully beat him to the punch.

“What your parents do has no reflection on you as a person, Sherry. I wasn't with you in Raccoon City, but I know you're strong and brave because you can admit that your dad did wrong and stood up for what you believed was right.”

Jill leaned back into her chair and let out a long sigh before continuing.

“I know how you feel, Sherry, because _my_ dad is a bad person too. So bad that he's in prison for the rest of his life because he has hurt so many people.”

Both Chris and Sherry found Jill's admission surprising. Jill had never spoken of her father to Chris before and Sherry never would have suspected that someone as respectable as Jill had a morally corrupt father too.

“We might be bound by blood, but that's all we are have in common. I don't stand by the things he did and it's not my fault that he did them. You can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends, and the fact that you picked Claire and Leon instead of your dad means you're a good person, Sherry.”

Both Leon and Claire were incredibly grateful for Jill in that moment. Her speech was far superior to any hastily conceived advice that either of the two could have mustered and, more importantly, it was backed by her own experience. Empathy was always better than sympathy, which was the only thing that either of them could have offered.

Sherry felt her nausea dissipate with Jill's affirmation. Often, she had felt lonesome despite being surrounded by company due to her loose ties to Umbrella. Knowing that Jill, too, had a similarly muddy history gave her a cathartic sense of camaraderie with the woman.

“You're...really cool, Jill. I wanna be strong like you when I grow up.”

Jill laughed good-naturedly.

“You're already strong, Sherry, and you should be proud of that. Don't ever wish you were someone else. I'm really proud of who you are and you should be too.”

* * *

 Whenever Claire appeared to be missing, Leon learned that he could always find her here, stretched out on the lawn with a stare so hard that he wondered if she were attempting to bore a hole into the heavens. This had almost become their weekly routine - him rescuing Claire from her thoughts at night and stealing kisses in the dark like a teenager afraid of his parents.

“Claire, we really gotta stop meeting like this.”

He spoke to her playfully as he laid down on the ground beside her, but, much to his dismay, she did not break her concentration to acknowledge him. Instead, she remained as still as ever, hands resting against her ribcage as she studied the sky.

Leon allowed her the silence and mimicked her position as he, too, took in the view. It was a particularly clear night, the inky blanket of the sky seemingly pierced in a thousand places to allow starlight to filter through. A sight like this was a rare occurrence for him - back in the city, the fluorescent lights drowned the stars in their artificial glow.

“I'd make a terrible mother.”

Her statement caught him off guard, not only because it was a sudden interruption of the quietness they shared, but also because of the subject matter. Was motherhood important to her? He didn't know. Why did this matter?

“I can't believe I let Sherry think she was responsible for what happened.”

So _that_ was what it was all about. Leon frowned and wished desperately that he had even half of Jill's talent when it came to speaking.

“That wasn't your fault, Claire.” It wasn't particularly poignant, but it was the truth. “You aren't responsible for how someone else chooses to feel. She went through a lot...and she's almost thirteen. It's the perfect recipe for angst soup.”

Claire allowed a wet chuckle to escape her and it was punctuated by a quiet sniffle. Leon hadn't realized she was crying.

“I feel guilty about everything that happened and he's not even my dad.” She laughed a little as she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I shouldn't have let her see all that shit. I should have left her someplace safe and gone back for her.”

“Claire, y--”

“No, Leon,” She roughly interrupted, “You don't understand. I let her watch _both_ of her parents die.”

He hadn't known that. Claire never mentioned Annette's death...or even crossing paths with her, for that matter. At face value, it sounded horrible, but Leon knew the circumstances were fucked to begin with. Watching her parents die was likely Sherry's inevitable fate, with or without Claire beside her.

“Claire, I'm not a clairvoyant, but I suspect that Sherry's parents were going to die regardless. Ada was after Annette anyway, so...in some weird, morbid way, Sherry was lucky to have you there to support her when it happened. Who knows what would have happened to her without you?”

Claire's mind ran wild with the possibilities.

“More likely than not, Sherry is alive because of _you_ , Claire. You saved her life. You shouldn't feel guilty about that…” He turned onto his side to face her and he took one of her hands in his, “You should be _proud_ , Claire.”

His fingers slipped between hers and he grasped her hand tightly.

“I don't know many nineteen-year-olds who have accomplished much with their lives. I certainly don't know any who have saved _others’_ lives.”

Leon let his thumb trace against the smooth skin of the back of her palm and he wondered if the rest of her felt as good beneath his fingertips.

“You're a badass, Claire Redfield, and I'm honored to be able to kiss you like I'm about to right now.”

He didn't give her time to think before he lowered his face to hers, the soft skin of his lips ghosting against hers in an almost maddening way. He held her gaze as she stared up at him, the tears in her eyes glimmering in the moonlight, and Leon wanted nothing more than to give her peace from the horrors and unwarranted regret that haunted her.

With the pad of his thumb, he brushed away a stray tear that had been trapped in her lashes, and he smiled down at her. His pale hair fell into his eyes and he shifted to align his body with hers, his legs straddling either side of her thighs as he hovered over her. Both of his hands found the sides of her face to cup her cheeks in his heated palms and he whispered, “Don't you dare regret this too.”

Leon kissed her firmly and slowly with parted lips and a tease of tongue that forced the memories from her mind like a riptide had washed through. Claire made a quiet sound in her throat in response, lips parting slightly, and he took advantage of it by allowing himself to explore her mouth more fully. His tongue brushed against hers in an intimate gesture and her hands found fistfuls of his shirt to help keep her grounded to reality.

Claire was passionate in all that she did, and kissing Leon was no exemption to that rule. Her teeth grazed against his lower lip and he groaned into her mouth, his hips instinctively shifting to press against hers. She gasped into his mouth at the feel of the heat of him against her pelvis and he allowed an arm to snake beneath her upper body to lift her against him, allowing no inch of her to go untouched.

His fingers crept beneath the hem of her shirt to explore the expanse of her back and rubbed small circles along her skin as they trailed the length of her spine. Claire sighed into his mouth and lifted her hips to bring them just a _little_ closer to his, causing him to inhale sharply.

Leon pulled away to curse quietly under his breath, his voice husky with desire. He watched her writhe beneath him, lips flushed and hair wild and free from the confines of her usual ponytail. She was something... _something_ he couldn't really define, even now as she craned her neck to nip at the length of his throat.

It felt wrong, but it felt so _right_ , too. Chivalry was important to him but the press of her teeth and the lave of her tongue were doing an incredible job of convincing him otherwise.

He cleared his throat loudly as if it would somehow lift the fog in his mind and he carefully pulled her away from his neck to look her in the eyes.

“Am I still allowed to carry you to bed?” He asked with a newfound sense of confidence and Claire laughed as if he had asked her the dumbest question imaginable.

“Are you going to stay with me?” She asked, and he, too, laughed as if she had told the best joke he had heard in all his twenty-one years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:
> 
> \- I thought about scrapping this chapter a lot...but Xaori convinced me to keep it. If you hate it, please forward all complaints to her. :P Oh, and I promise I won't put Leon and Claire outside stargazing again in the next chapter hahahahahdfhkjsafhkasf sorry I suck
> 
> \- As always, thanks so much for all the love and support. This story started out as a half-assed drabble to satisfy the warm fuzzies I felt after getting the "true" ending in RE2 remake and didn't expect it to kick off like this. At this point, it's entirely a gift for the Cleon community, and I am happy to take any of your suggestions on where you'd like for this to go in the future.


	11. Love

Claire was positive that she was going to die.

She buried her face in her hands with her elbows resting on the rim of the toilet seat as another wave of nausea came over her. In an attempt to curb the sensation, she allowed her eyes to slip closed and focused on breathing slow, shallow breaths through her mouth.

Zombie guts, sewers, and the sight of her own blood after being backhanded by a Tyrant were no big deal. Nausea, on the other hand, felt more like a death sentence than a symptom as far as she was concerned. With a groan, she ran a hand over her face and was surprised by the feel of the heat of her own skin.

Did she have a _fever?_

Claire pressed her palms to the sides of her face and swept them downwards to find that the backside of her neck was slick with sweat.

She probably would have cursed aloud had her body not blindsided her with nausea so severe that she heaved hard enough to make her eyes water. With a whimper, she wiped the corner of her mouth and leaned against the wall beside her.

How the _fuck_ did she manage to catch a cold?

With the little energy she had, Claire managed to lift herself off the bathroom floor and stumble towards the door. Upon rising, she became distinctly aware of the weight of her head that had suddenly taken on a new heaviness, almost as if it were tightly packed with cotton. She braced herself against the doorframe and attempted to swallow her nausea, but was met with a burning sensation at the back of her throat.

Utter bullshit. Claire Redfield didn't have _time_ to be ill.

Just as she managed to peel herself away from the door frame, Chris hastily barreled through the door, worsening the dizziness that had overcome her. She pressed a hand over her face, eyes held shut in an attempt to regain her sense of balance.

The sound of loud, exaggerated retching brought her back to reality, and she pulled her hand away from her face to watch Chris quiver with the force of his vomiting.

“Guess you're dying too.” She observed aloud, voice hoarse and throat aching.

Chris whimpered pathetically in response before looking up at her with a dead, glazed over stare. His olive skin had taken on an uncharacteristically ashen appearance and he shivered, beads of sweat breaking out along his forehead. He seemed almost _frail_ , which was the last word Claire would ever think of to describe her brother.

“Fucking shit.” His voice was barely even a whisper, rough for all the wrong reasons and followed by another sudden episode of vomiting.

“Can you...get Jill?” He managed to ask, breath coming in harsh pants.

Claire rolled her eyes and immediately regretted the vertigo-inspiring action.

“You know I'm dying too, right?” She asked.

Chris looked up at her and watched the color drain from her face right before his eyes. The next thing he knew, she was roughly pushing him aside to dry heave into the toilet.

“This is why you wear a coat in winter.” Jill reprimanded teasingly from the doorway, a sympathetic look on her face as she regarded the two of them. “Your poor immune systems have been abused all season because of your stubbornness.”

Both Redfields felt their cheeks burn, but wrote it off as a side effect of the fever rather than embarrassment.

* * *

 Sherry was poised on the edge of the counter, legs freely swinging back and forth as she watched the contents of the pot on the stove simmer gently.

“Does soup _really_ cure sickness?”

It sounded kind of silly to her. If soup was truly so therapeutic, her father and the rest of Raccoon City could have easily been saved. How could a bunch of bits of vegetables floating in a pot suppress the zombie apocalypse?

Jill laughed as she stirred the concoction. Sherry was definitely the daughter of scientists if her inquisitiveness was any indication of that. Nonetheless, Jill had grown fond of her in the short period of time she had known her, perhaps because Sherry reminded her of a younger version of herself in some ways.

“Soup is a placebo...it sometimes makes you feel better because you _think_ it does.” She shrugged. “And, you know, soup is a lot easier to throw up than most things.”

Sherry wrinkled her nose in disgust, but she couldn't disagree. She'd _definitely_ rather throw up fluids and soggy vegetables than a solid meal.

“What do you think is wrong with them?”

She knew firsthand that it wasn’t the G-virus and she had seen enough people experimentally succumb to the T-virus to know that it certainly wasn’t a manifestation of its doing, either.

“Well, it _is_ flu season.” Jill remarked, smiling as she added, “Or maybe it’s just the long-term sequelae of the plague that is the Redfield stubbornness.”

Sherry snickered to herself. Even she had noticed the stubborn streak that ran through the Redfield gene pool upon meeting both Claire and Chris. Based on the ways Leon and Jill reacted to their antics, Sherry had determined that their stubborn nature was both a blessing and a curse depending on the situation.

“I wish soup could have saved Raccoon City...” Sherry murmured, “But then I guess I wouldn’t have gotten to meet Claire or Leon...or you and Chris!”

Jill paused mid-stir to process the comment, but quickly resumed with a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah,” She admitted, “That would have been nice.”

That would have been the icing on the “what-the-fuck-has-the-world-gone-to” cake, wouldn’t it have been? A pharmaceutical company’s artificially produced zombie outbreak cured by homemade chicken soup.

“Whatever that is smells delicious.”

Leon had found his way into the kitchen after having shamefully overslept. It wasn’t like him to sleep so late and he feared the commentary he was bound to receive from Chris, but was relieved by his absence from the room.

“It’s soup!” Sherry explained excitedly. “Claire and Chris are sick!”

He fumbled the glass he had retrieved from the cabinet.

“Claire’s sick?”

Even saying it aloud didn’t help it make any more sense. How could _Claire Redfield_ get sick? And, more importantly, sick with _what?_ He felt his heart skip a beat as he contemplated what he’d even pack for the next raid on Umbrella to retrieve some obscure, highly guarded antidote.

“Jill said it’s probably _flu._ ” Sherry clarified, but it didn’t quite put him at ease.

“Flu? What flu? _The_ flu?”

His worried expression was equally touching and entertaining to Jill. She tilted her head to the side as she looked up at him, blue eyes practically twinkling with humor.

“Yes, Leon. Influenza. _The_ flu.” She laughed, “You can relax now. No one is turning into a zombie in this household.”

Leon raised an eyebrow as she turned back to the stovetop to tend to the soup. He hadn’t said that aloud, so how could she have known about his worries? Was Jill a... _mind reader?_

He hoped to both heaven and hell alike that she wasn’t.

“Well, in that case...soup should help.” He coughed as he headed to the fridge, feeling strangely nervous. “My mom used to always make it for me when I was sick.”

Sherry frowned. Was she the only person in the world who didn’t know about soup’s apparent magical properties? Her mother had never made her soup before.

“What is your mom like, Leon?”

Sherry was curious to know. Claire had told her stories about her parents, but Leon hadn’t spoken much about his.

He chewed on a piece of ice from his drink as he thought about it, lowering himself into a chair at the table nearby.

“Well, she’s just...a mom, you know?” He cringed at his own explanation. Sherry didn’t exactly have the best idea of what a mother ought to be like...and, really, what did he even _mean_ by that statement?

“We don’t talk much.” He figured that explanation would somehow make up for his poor description. “She worked all the time when I was growing up, so we didn’t spend a lot of time together. I don’t really know what she’s like.”

It seemed kind of pathetic when he said it aloud but, in his defense, his mother hadn’t made much of an effort to discover what _he_ was like either.

Sherry seemed to accept the answer and shifted her attention to Jill.

“What is your mom like?”

Jill shook her head. “I’m not sure either. My parents didn’t _actually_ love each other, so...I never really got to meet her.”

Leon felt for her. Sherry, on the other hand, found her statement confusing. Why did they have a kid if they didn’t love each other?

Well, that was a stupid thought. She wasn’t even sure if her own parents loved each other.

“Do you think my parents loved each other?” Sherry wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer, but her burning curiosity wouldn’t allow her to keep the question at bay.

Leon coughed once more and Jill sighed.

“I think your parents probably loved each other.” Jill said softly, “I didn’t know them, but, from what I heard, they had to care for each other. Sometimes, though, loving someone and being in love are two different things. I don’t know if your parents were still in love, but it sounds like they loved each other...in their own way.”

Naturally, Jill’s words only served to inspire more questions from Sherry.

“Have _you_ ever been in love?”

There was a sense of amazement in her voice as she asked and Jill laughed at the sight of her, eyes wide with awe and fingers tightly curled around the end of the counter in anticipation.

“I have.”

Sherry stroked her chin in a theatrical gesture and Jill prepared herself for the impending interrogation.

“But how do you _know_ if you’re in love?”

Jill gave the pot of soup a final stir before removing it from the flame and set it aside to cool. She leaned against the edge of the counter and crossed her arms over her chest as she thought about the answer to her question.

“I think love probably feels different for everyone.”

It wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Sherry’s insatiable interest, so she continued.

“To me, love is something that happens accidentally. It’s not like a romance novel or a Hallmark card - it happens suddenly when you least expect it. In the blink of an eye, the person you’ve already known becomes the person you love because you suddenly realize that you hate it more when you’re apart than you love being together.”

Leon suddenly found himself standing at attention, his mind intently studying each and every word that she spoke.

Jill laughed - a soft sound that splintered with emotion as she spoke.

“And then you start to miss them even while you’re with them because you know that, eventually, you’ll have to be apart again. Love takes you hostage - it makes you think about them all the time, but...it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

She shrugged, but the smile on her face remained.

“Love helps everything in your life make sense. Even the horrible parts start to make sense because you realize that it all had to happen in order for you to meet the person you love and it makes everything so _worth_ it. You’re suddenly alright with the suffering that’s already happened and you’re not worried about the suffering that is to come because you’ll have _your_ person there with you to help you through it.”

Jill returned to the soup to give it a final stir before portioning it into bowls.

“And then, one day, home isn’t a place anymore because you realize that the person you love _is_ your home. Nothing can even compare to making you feel as comfortable as they do because they’re suddenly warm, safe, and worn in all the right places as if they were made for you.”

She lifted the bowls onto a serving tray and paused.

“But, you have to be careful...love can warm you from the inside out once it lights the hearth of your heart, but it can also burn down your house if you don’t tend to it properly and allow it to get out of hand.”

And with that she whisked her way out of the room in order to tend to the sick. Sherry leapt off the counter and was hot on her heels, firing at her with a thousand more questions.

Leon leaned back in his chair and let out a long, slow breath at the realization that dawned upon him.

He, Leon S. Kennedy, was absolutely, unequivocally in love with Claire Redfield.

He hoped that both his hearth and his home were prepared for whatever came next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fluff makes up for the disgustingness of this chapter, right?


	12. Tradition

Sherry watched the snowflake flutter through the air, whirling and spinning with the breeze as it slowly descended to the ground. It was the beginning of the first snowfall of the winter season, a stark reminder of just how much time had passed since the Raccoon City incident had occurred. Sometimes, it seemed as though it had been only yesterday, but watching snow begin to litter the ground made her realize that it had been a while since they had managed to narrowly escape the horror.

It also reminded her just how long it had been since she saw her parents.

She sighed heavily and watched fog blossom across the chilled glass of the windowpane before her. Though her relationship with her parents hadn’t been ideal, it was _weird_ to think about the fact that she would never see them again. Sherry didn’t care much for the sinking feeling such thoughts brought to the pit of her belly and she opted to force herself to forget about it entirely.

Snow meant winter and winter meant Christmas and Christmas meant it was almost her _thirteenth birthday_. How cool was that? Super cool, if she could say so herself. Thirteen was pretty much an adult, after all. What was left after that? _Sixteen_?

Pulling herself away from the window, Sherry bounded down the stairs, catching herself on the banister as she slid in her slippers on the final step.

“Sherry! Running down the stairs is dangerous.”

She rolled her eyes. Of _course_ Leon was passing by just in time to see her clumsiness. Didn’t he have better things to do like stare at Claire all day?

“So is being around zombies, but you guys let me do that.”

Sherry crossed her arms over her chest, tongue darting out from between her lips in a mocking gesture.

“I…” Leon paused, struggling for words. _Where_ had she learned that? What had gotten into her?

With a triumphant grin on her face, Sherry hopped off the final step and made her way into the kitchen, delighted to find Claire standing at the kitchen counter, furiously whisking batter in a bowl.

“Are you making breakfast?” She asked excitedly, unable to contain her enthusiasm for Claire’s cooking.

Claire nodded, ponytail bobbing with the movement.

“Yep! The world famous Redfield snow day pancakes!”

Sherry had never heard of them, but figured that they _must_ be good to be world famous. She slid into a seat at the kitchen table and began to fiddle with the silverware that had preemptively been laid out, anxious for food.

“We have a lot to do today.” Claire informed her, pausing her whisking in order for Sherry to hear her over the violent noise, “And the first thing on the agenda is for you to go wake up my big, dumb brother.”

She flipped on the burner of the stove before continuing.

“But you have to be really loud and annoying about it.”

Sherry’s eyes widened in both terror and surprise.

“You want me to annoy _Chris_?” She swallowed hard, unsure if she was truly up to the tumultuous task.

“You have to. It’s _tradition_.” Claire urged, “Go jump on his bed and make him get up.”

Sherry pursed her lips, mulling over the idea.

“Just tell him I told you to do it...for old times’ sake.”

She considered it for a while longer before shrugging and sprinting back towards the stairs.

Shortly after her departure, Leon meandered into the kitchen with a perplexed look on his face.

“Do you need any help?” He asked, purely out of politeness and not because he was confident in his culinary prowess.

Claire shook her head and turned to greet him, caught off guard by his long expression.

“What's up with you?”

“I, uh…” Leon thrust his hands into his pockets, shrugging, “Is something wrong with Sherry?”

Claire fell into a thoughtful silence as she portioned batter onto the griddle.

“Why do you think that?” She turned to him with an upwards eyebrow, already skeptical of whatever answer he had to offer.

“She's just kind of…” He struggled to choose an appropriate word, “...being a brat, I guess.”

Claire's attempt to hold in her laughter was an utter failure.

“Oh, Leon, she's about to be _thirteen_! Of course she's a brat.”

Leon nodded. He wasn’t going to argue with Claire because, truth be told, just _thinking_ about being thirteen was enough to make him cringe. He didn’t necessarily have to remember his teenage years to know it was a difficult time in his life too.

After a cacophonous descent down the stairs, Chris entered the kitchen, grumbling all the while with Sherry in tow. His eyelids were heavy with sleep even as he rubbed at them with the backs of his hands, hair mussed and t-shirt wrinkled from tossing and turning in bed.

“For a minute, I thought you aged in reverse or something.”

He gave Claire a gentle slap on the back of her head and she snickered.

“Snow day tradition, bro.”

Chris mumbled under his breath as he made his way to the coffee maker, unceremoniously jabbing buttons at random until it began to brew. He shuffled his way to the kitchen table just as Claire dumped a stack of pancakes onto Sherry’s plate.

Sherry wasted no time in dousing her pancakes with a generous helping of syrup.

“Want some pancakes with all that syrup?” Chris asked, amused.

Sherry gave a mocking pause, tapping her finger against her cheek for a brief moment before chiming, “Nope, I’m good.”

“Damn, Claire, she really _is_ just like little you.”

She wasn’t sure if it was meant to be an insult or a compliment, but Sherry took it as the latter as she chewed a mouthful of pancakes, reveling in the sugary goodness.

Claire dumped a pile of pancakes onto his plate with much less finesse this time, not particularly concerned about neatness when it came to her brother. Chris paid the lopsided pancakes no mind and eagerly drowned them in syrup.

“You better eat your fill because we have a lot of work to do.” Claire informed him, pointing her spatula at him offendingly.

Chris rolled his eyes at her words, unable to speak on account of the massive load of pancakes he had promptly shoveled into his mouth.

Leon looked at Claire curiously as she gingerly served him.

“What’s special about today?”

He waited for her response before digging into his breakfast.

“It’s the first snow!”

She waved the spatula at the window, beckoning him to observe the flurries that had begun to fall.

“O...kay…?”

Chris nonchalantly snatched a pancake off of Leon’s plate.

“Redfield tradition, Kennedy.”

Claire gave Chris a sideways glare before plopping another pancake onto Leon’s plate.

“In this household, Christmas festivities begin when the first snow falls.”

Sherry reached over the table to spear a piece of Chris’s pancake, snatching it up for herself and popping it into her mouth before he could protest.

“Claire, your evil mini-me just _stole_ my pancake.”

Chris kept his eyes trained on Sherry as though they were in the midst of an interrogation and she giggled, not even remotely deterred by his attempt at intimidation. In a second display of bravado, she pointed towards the empty living room and exclaimed, “Hey, Jill’s back!”

At the very second Chris turned his head, Sherry swapped their plates, leaving him nothing but a sea of syrup.

Upon realizing what she had done, Chris narrowed his eyes and glowered at the girl.

“I take back what I said earlier, Claire. She’s even worse than you were.”

Sherry continued to drizzle syrup all over Chris’s former pancakes and shrugged.

“I take that as a compliment.” She chirped before making a show of taking her first bite of stolen pancakes, much to Chris’s dismay and Leon’s horror.

Teenagers were awfully scary.

* * *

 Sherry sat cross-legged beside the fireplace, a hot cup of cocoa in hand as she watched both Jill and Claire stare at a faded page of assembly instructions. Beside them was tattered box filled with a mess of faux branches that Claire insisted would make a Christmas tree, but Sherry was more than skeptical of her claim.

“You know, my parents didn’t ever put up a Christmas tree, but I’ve seen them in movies before and they definitely didn’t look like _that_.”

Claire whipped around to face Sherry with an incredulous look on her face as she all but gasped, “Your parents didn’t put up a Christmas tree?”

The girl shook her head. It didn’t seem all that crazy to her, but she guessed she didn’t really know any better. She had already established that weird ran in the Redfield family, so she figured it would be best to just play along with whatever Claire had planned.

“Did your parents put up a Christmas tree, Jill?” She asked, curious to know if she was truly an anomaly.

Jill winced at the question.

“Only my mom did, so after she left...Christmas did too.”

Claire genuinely gasped this time, hands brought to her heart in an overly dramatic gesture.

“This is the saddest story I’ve ever heard.” She whispered, wiping an imaginary tear away from her cheek, “Thankfully, this house is about to be full of Christmas magic to warm your cold, deprived souls.”

Sherry took a swig of her hot chocolate, attention averted to Chris and Leon who struggled to carry boxes down the staircase.

“Do we really need _all_ of mom’s stuff, Claire?” Chris asked, slightly winded by the task of stubbornly hauling an entire stack of boxes in a single trip.

“Umm, do you want to _ruin_ Christmas?” Claire asked, hands on her hips.

Chris sighed, scratching the back of his head as he looked over at Leon.

“Guess it’s time for round two.” He grumbled before trudging back up the stairs.

* * *

 Running around the house to hang stockings and wreaths and punching out gingerbread men from the dough Claire had begged Jill to prepare had left her _beat_.

Sherry slumped onto the couch with a sigh, her loose braid falling over the back of the furniture as she allowed her head to loll back against the cushions. Though she was exhausted, a fizzy, bubbling feeling warmed her from the inside out as she took in the merry decor around her.

They had all gathered in the living room at Claire’s command and Sherry twisted on the couch to throw her legs onto Leon’s lap.

He raised an eyebrow and she shrugged, simply saying, “My feet are tired.”

With the flick of a switch, the room was shrouded in darkness as Claire prepared to light the tree for the first time.

“I hope you’re all ready for this magic.” She teased, her words causing Sherry to straighten up in anticipation just slightly.

Without any warning, the room burst into light, the glow provided by the soft colored string lights that had been strategically wound around the tree. The ornaments that Claire had carefully placed about the branches glittered in the halo of the lights and Sherry let out a quiet gasp of awe.

“It’s super pretty!” She gushed, clapping her hands together with excitement.

Chris nodded his head as he threw an arm over the back of the couch in order to drape it around Jill’s shoulders.

“It’s just like mom used to do.”

Claire grinned with pride as she admired her work, her pale face illuminated in the festive glow. After a moment, she turned back to the group and waved towards the kitchen.

“One last festivity while the night is young... _cookies_.”

Sherry didn’t have to be told twice as she leapt from the couch to bolt towards the kitchen, only narrowly beating Chris to the punch with Jill in tow to supervise their intake.

Leon rose from the couch to stand beside Claire, studying the tree once more.

“You did a really good job, Claire.” He spoke softly, his compliment earning a small smile from her.

“Thanks.” She felt a blush creep along the surface of her cheeks. “I know it means a lot to Chris too. Our mom was crazy about Christmas so I try my best to keep the tradition going.”

Leon laughed, “Yeah, no kidding.”

He followed her towards the kitchen, just barely making it through the doorway before Sherry screamed, causing him to freeze.

“Oooh! Leon!” She shouted, pointing upwards with an accusatory finger.

Leon tilted his head back to gaze upwards, unsure of what to expect. Despite Claire’s adamance about embodying the Christmas spirit, he was still somehow surprised to find the bundle of mistletoe dangling above his head.

Swallowing hard, he looked over at Claire, who had fallen into step with him.

“Claire told me the rules!” Sherry exclaimed, “You have to kiss now!”

Leon felt as though his face were on the brink of melting off at any moment. He clenched his eyes closed tightly as he attempted to think of some sort of excuse to get himself out of making a move on Claire in front of her behemoth of a brother, but ultimately failed.

When he opened his eyes once more, he found Claire looking up at him. Her eyes were a boundless blue, framed by long, dark lashes that fluttered prettily as she blinked up at him. In their closeness, he could count each and every freckle smattered across the crests of her cheeks and he longed to reach forward to brush her bangs from her face.

Her lips were parted slightly, full and so impossibly red, but even more inviting. He felt his heart skip a beat and whatever madness Sherry had been shouting was drowned out by the rush of blood that filled his ears.

Audience be damned, he reached up to brush her hair from her face and cup the side of her cheek, his thumb hooking beneath her chin to carefully tilt her face more properly towards his.

Leon kissed her, slowly and softly and with purpose. He tasted like Christmas, like peppermint and nutmeg and something familiar, a flavor that she had only experienced while indulging in the taste of him. She made a soft sound in the back of her throat and he smiled against her mouth, hands finding the small of her back as he pulled her closer against him.

The heat that radiated from her body as it came flush against his was unexpected, but appreciated all the same. He allowed his tongue to graze along the length of her lower lip and Claire opened her mouth just slightly, allowing him more intimate access.

Leon slipped his leg between her thighs, lost in the moment as his other hand tangled itself in her hair, threading through tresses to pull her ponytail free. He relished in the feel of her pressed against him, warm and soft in all the right places and only a million times better than the thousands of ways he had imagined her from the privacy of his bedroom.

When he broke off the kiss, his breath came in ragged pants against her face and she pressed her fingertips to her lips, the sensitive flesh buzzing.

“Leon, I…”

Her eyes widened and she shoved him back slightly, turning her head towards the kitchen with such speed that she thought she might have given herself whiplash.

To her surprise, she was not greeted with the sight of her fuming brother; in fact, their audience had seemingly vanished into thin air.

Leon smiled wide as she turned her attention back to him.

“I guess I’ll live to see another day.” He murmured, voice husky as he leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to the side of her jaw.

“Or he’s looking for a murder weapon.” Claire whispered, inhaling sharply as his lips trailed to a sensitive patch of flesh along the side of her neck.

“Or he’s giving us the privacy we both deserve.” He spoke against her skin, each syllable causing a shiver to run down her spine.

“What are you trying to say, Mr. Kennedy?” She teased, a hand trailing along the front of his chest.

“I’m saying that I think it’s about time I show you what I’ve been too nervous to say all this time.” He continued his exploration, his tongue darting out to lave at the smooth skin between her clavicles.

“And what is that?” Her fingers tangled in his hair as she asked.

He pulled away, dark blue eyes searching hers as if for permission that he never found. Summoning every last shred of courage he could muster, he leaned forward, his lips barely grazing against hers as he spoke.

“I think I love you, Claire Redfield.”

And she smiled, her lips brushing over his this time as she whispered.

“What a coincidence, Leon Kennedy. I think I might love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm _so_ sorry for how long it took me to put out this update. April became an uncannily busy month for me and, truth be told, I hit a pretty sturdy wall with this piece and was at a complete loss as to what to do with it, but I think I'm (hopefully) back on track. I hope the chapter was worth the wait ;_;
> 
> As a side plug, I started a retelling of Resident Evil 2 in a completely alternate universe. It's gritty and dark and completely without fluff, but it is Leon/Claire in nature, so if something like that interests you, please check out my new work, Ten of Swords. 
> 
> And, as always, a huge thanks to Xaori for keeping me in check. You all nearly got Sherry conducting her first seance and bringing William back for vengeance in my desperate attempt to come up with something to write about, but she kept me in line...this time.


	13. Threat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by RobinEmrys' request for Chris to give Leon the shovel talk. :)

Leon felt like celebration--bubbly, colorful, and bright--from the moment he woke the very next morning. Still twisted in his sheets, he grinned up at the ceiling as the memories from the night before rushed through his head. The tingling sensation on his lips was proof that it hadn’t been a dream. Leon truly _did_ make out with Claire Redfield in the kitchen of her childhood home.

More importantly, though, the suffocating weight that he carried on his chest had been lifted. In the heat of the moment, he had managed to confess his feelings to her, and it had gone far more smoothly than he ever could have expected. All of the anxiety about how Claire felt about him had dissipated with her own mutual confession that she, too, had feelings for _him._

Part of him could hardly believe it. It seemed almost impossible that a woman like Claire Redfield could have feelings for him, but he didn’t dare question it aloud in fear that doing so would somehow make Claire realize that she was _way_ out of his league.

From the moment they first met, Leon had admired her demeanor, how coolly she managed to keep herself together in the face of danger. She hadn’t panicked in the way he would have expected of most civilians and she stepped up to the plate, putting her neck out time and again to ensure the safety of others. No matter the circumstances, she stood up for what she believed in and devoted herself entirely to her cause.

After meeting Chris, Leon realized where Claire’s bravery and spitfire nature had come from. Though he hadn’t been able to tell on first glance that the two of them were siblings, their personalities and manner of speaking had made it apparent. Redfield blood must have run hotter than any other.

Pulling on a t-shirt, he managed to pull himself out of bed, but a ghost of a smile still remained on his face. Leon wasn’t sure what he and Claire were to one another after making their confessions, but he knew things were no longer like they had been before and he was eager to find out how they had changed.

After freshening himself up in the bathroom, he had hoped to find Claire nearby, but the house was strangely silent. There was no giggling that echoed up the stairs or sizzling of a skillet as Claire prepared breakfast and it made the home strangely lonely. He had grown accustomed to this, the sounds of...being part of a family, he supposed.

The giddiness he had felt that morning quickly deflated as soon as he stepped foot in the kitchen to find Chris seated at the table as he stared hard in Leon’s direction. Flustered, Leon coughed quietly and ran a hand through his hair as he beelined for the refrigerator to search for a distraction.

“Kennedy, isn’t it?”

Chris’s voice was hard and caused a chill to run along his spine. Leon closed his eyes tightly, an arm still outstretched as he reached into the refrigerator for nothing in particular.

“Uh, yeah…” He responded, snatching up the carton of milk despite never being one to drink it.

He felt Chris’s bore holes into his back with his glare as he reached for a cup, hoping his lack of sociability would be enough to bring the interaction to an end.

“You know, I’ve never had to have this conversation before.” Chris mused aloud and Leon heard the scrape of the chair against the kitchen floor.

Leon took a moment to prepare himself for whatever was to come. Breathing deeply through his nose, he let his eyes slip shut in order to picture Claire’s face one last time before her brother potentially strangled the life out of him. With a slow exhale, he turned and forced a smile as he looked at the other Redfield who was now leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

“Claire didn’t date in high school.” Chris commented.

 _Gee, I wonder why,_ Leon thought, but said nothing in response.

“She’s smart and knows how to take care of herself.”

Leon nodded as he forced himself to take a sip of milk and keep from grimacing at the taste. Chris leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, sighing as he did so. In his hunched over position, his shoulders somehow seemed even wider and Leon watched the bands of muscle in his arm twitch. Maybe one punch would be all it took to end his life.

“Look,” Chris grumbled, clearly annoyed, “If you ever fucking hurt her, I swear that no one will ever find your goddamn body and I’ll make sure they never miss your pathetic existence.”

For a moment, Leon thought that perhaps Chris had managed to sucker punch him in the gut without him realizing it. He felt as though he had been winded and he took in a deep breath as he struggled to come up with a proper response.

Truthfully, Leon wasn’t even sure where he managed to summon the courage that fueled his response of, “Don’t worry. If I so much as let her get hurt, I’ll make sure to end myself.”

Smirking slowly, Chris nodded his head.

“Good answer, kid.”

It took everything in Leon to keep from passing out on the spot even after Chris had left the kitchen, chuckling under his breath.

* * *

 Sherry had forgotten how bright snow could get. Squinting, she looked out at the thick blanket of white that enveloped her surroundings and shivered despite the thick layer of clothing she had bundled herself in.

It had been quite some time since she had last been in the snow. Faintly, she could recall building a snowman with her father while she was still in primary school, but it had perhaps been the last time she had allowed herself to play in the snow.

_"What if it comes to life?" Sherry asked, lips pursed in a concerned expression._

_William raised a curious eyebrow as he adjusted the lopsided carrot nose Sherry had given the snowman. "Why would it come to life?"_

_Sherry shrugged and looked down at her feet, a little embarrassed by her father's question. Being questioned by her parents had always made her feel strangely small._

_"You and mommy might use it for an experiment…" She mumbled, looking back up at the snowman._

_In her child mind, it was eerie in appearance. The pieces of coal they had used for its face had begun to bleed black into the surrounding snow and the carrot her mother had reluctantly given them was long and crooked, knotted and rough in shape. The branches William had pulled off a nearby tree were spindly and thin, creating arms that seemingly tapered off into claws._

_William stood back and admired their work for a moment before ruffling Sherry's hair._

_"Sherry, how would this snowman survive? It has no organs." He gave her a sideways look. "As soon as the sun comes out, it will start to melt."_

_William shook his head as he gestured towards the sun, hidden behind a cloud._

_"It would be a waste of my talents to participate in something so futile."_

_Sherry swallowed hard and looked down at her feet once more as she pushed snow aside with the tip of her shoe. She felt her face burn with shame for asking such a stupid question in front of her father. Still, though, as she looked up at the snowman they had constructed, she grimaced at the sight of it._

_"Yeah," She forced a smile, "I was just kidding, daddy."_

She cringed at the memory, burying her face in the scratchy material of the wool mittens she had retrieved from a box of Claire’s old clothing. Part of her wondered if her parents could somehow see her in that moment and she felt those familiar feelings of embarrassment rise within her once again. Her parents had always told her that there was no life after death, but Claire had told her otherwise. Who was she supposed to believe?

Irritated, she kicked at the snow and made her way into the yard. Regardless of whether they could see her or not, she was gonna build her own snowman this time to surprise Claire because Claire liked those kinds of things and it didn’t matter if her mom or dad thought it was stupid.

And, you know, hers wouldn’t be _creepy_ like her dad’s.

Determined, Sherry began to gather snow together in a heap in the center or the front yard. By the time she had constructed the base of the snowman, the tip of her nose was numb from the cold and pieces of hair had fallen from the loose pinning job she had done on her hair. She took a moment to breathe in deeply through her nose, enjoying the crisp, clean air of winter as she studied her work.

"Umm, what are you doing?"

Her head snapped up and she caught sight of two girls at the base of the driveway. She assumed they lived in the neighborhood and she was surprised by the butterflies that suddenly took flight in the pit of her belly. It had been a really long time since she was around other kids.

"I'm building a snowman for my friend!" Sherry explained cheerily.

The two girls looked at one another and giggled.

"So, like...how old are you?" One asked and, suddenly, Sherry became hyper-vigilant.

The girls were probably older than her, given the fact that they had a couple of inches on her. One was tanned with dark hair pulled back into a perfect curled ponytail. She wore shades of pale pink and grey, earmuffs and gloves perfectly coordinated. The other girl was smaller and blonde with bright green eyes and a thick red winter coat paired with immaculately polished Mary Janes.

Sherry suddenly felt incredibly small. She looked down at the mismatched attire she had pulled out of Claire's storage of old clothes and felt ashamed of her likely blotchy, pale skin. Nervously, she smoothed out her hair as best she could in her slightly oversized mittens.

"Oh, um...thirteen." She lied, but didn't feel too horribly about it given that her birthday was only days away.

The girls snickered and briefly shared a look before the dark-haired girl stepped closer.

"You're thirteen and you're _still_ building a snowman?" She sneered, kicking snow in the direction of her half-built snowman.

Sherry wasn't sure if her face was numb because of the cold or the flush of embarrassment that overcame her.

"Well…" Sherry's voice faltered.

The girl batted her eyelashes at her and swung her ponytail back over her shoulder.

"You must be new here because I've never seen you at school." The girl mused aloud, eyeing Sherry thoughtfully.

"And we know _everyone._ " The smaller girl piped up, curling a piece of blonde hair around her finger.

Sherry swallowed hard and nodded, unsure of what else to say.

"I can see your family is poor." The taller girl gestured towards Sherry's attire with a wrinkled nose. "Must be to buy this old, haunted house."

The smaller girl laughed and Sherry shook her head.

"Um, it's not...haunted…" She defended, not quite sure of what else to say.

"It _looks_ haunted." She interrupted and the other girl frowned before adding, “I heard the people who used to live there _died._ ”

Sherry wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“They didn’t die in the house.” Sherry corrected and the dark-haired girl raised an eyebrow.

“How do you know?” She asked and quickly added, “Did _you_ kill them?”

Both of the girls broke into laughter and Sherry felt her eyes begin to burn. Why did she care what some stupid girls she didn’t even know had to say? They didn’t know what they were talking about and she _used_ to have cute clothes that matched too. Sherry could have looked like them if she wanted to...right?

“She looks like she just murdered someone.” One of them whispered as she stared at her clothes.

Sherry felt as though she might throw up. Just as she was about to bury her face in her hands and run, she heard the door on the porch swing closed and she turned quickly to see Leon and Chris heading in her direction, both of them bundled up in beanies and jackets.

“W-What are you guys doing out here?” Sherry asked, her nervousness nearly tangible.

Leon rubbed his hands together and nodded towards the beginnings of her snowman.

“We came to build the best snowman the world has ever seen, of course.” He spoke proudly, all smiles as he nudged Chris in the side.

Chris gave him a pointed look before turning towards the girls, grinning as he said, “Yeah, I love building snowmen.”

The girls’ eyes went wide as they took in the sight of the two men as they casually began to add snow to Sherry’s sad attempt at a snowman.

“O-oh.” The girl in red managed to speak. “I, um...we’ll get going then.”

The other girl nodded and took her friend by the hand, pulling her in the opposite direction.

“Yeah, it was, uh... _nice_ to meet you.” She narrowed her eyes as she gave Sherry a sinister look and added threateningly, “See you at school.”

Sherry watched the two girls leave, annoyed with how perfectly the taller girl’s ponytail bounced and swayed with the movement. Dejected, she walked back to the snowman and sighed.

“I guess this is kind of stupid.” She murmured.

Leon’s mouth fell open in theatrical surprise and Chris let out a gasp.

“Stupid?” Chris asked incredulously. “Don’t you dare talk about Sir Frosty the Third that way.”

Leon nodded and wrapped an arm around the no longer headless snowman before leaning in close to whisper against its nonexistent ear, “Don’t listen to her, your highness. She didn’t mean it.”

Sherry couldn’t help but to burst into laughter at the sight of it.

“You guys are even stupider than the snowman.” She managed between giggles and Leon held a hand to his chest, miming as though he had been struck.

“You dare insult Sir Frosty III in his own royal court?” He asked and gave no warning before he scooped her up into his arms. “Off to the dungeon with you!”

Sherry’s subsequent shriek and laughter kept him warm even after being struck in the face by a snowball as he and Chris fought for their right to royal knighthood.

* * *

 Claire and Jill returned later that night with the bed of the pickup truck loaded full of the contents of Claire’s dorm room.

"I...haven't told Chris that I withdrew yet." Claire confessed as she hoisted a box out of the back of the truck and nodded towards the garage. "And, uh...I don't think I'm ready to do it yet."

Jill gave her an empathetic look as she lifted the door to the garage with as much stealth as she could manage.

"It's not my place to tell him." She reassured her, moving past her to collect the next box.

Claire was grateful for Jill in a lot of ways, but the trait she loved most about her was perhaps her ability to keep Chris's emotions at bay. Though she and Chris were incredibly close, she was not impervious to being on the receiving end of his ire.

Just as they were unloading the final box, Leon found them. The sound of the box being dropped on the floor followed by Claire's loud string expletives had tipped him off on their return and he stepped into the garage with a curious look.

"Something I should know about?" He asked, eyebrow raised as he took in the tower of cardboard boxes that had been stacked against the nearby wall.

Jill gave Claire a questioning look and she returned it blankly.

"Look," Leon teased, "There are much more efficient ways to hide a body."

Claire sighed and buried her face in her hands as she asked, "Where's Chris?"

Leon caught onto the tension in her voice and leaned against the doorway, his expression softening into one of concern. "He's upstairs losing to Sherry in Mario Kart."

Jill wiped her hands off on her jeans and gave Claire’s shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“Time to go assert my dominance.” She teased, nodding to Leon as she made her way back into the house.

They shared a moment of silence as Leon waited for Claire to speak, but her voice never came. Instead, Leon cleared his throat and gestured out towards the yard through the open garage door.

“We built you a snowman.” He said lamely and Claire laughed, turning to see the half-melted figure in the dim floodlight. “It was Sherry’s idea.”

Claire couldn’t explain the burst of emotion that came over her. Her eyes began to burn and she struggled to breathe, forcing her to take in a ragged breath. Before she realized that she had begun to cry, she found herself being pulled face first against Leon’s chest.

He smelled of fresh linen and cloves, a combination of scents that had become a strange comfort to her. His arms were warm and strong around her as he held her to him with his chin lightly rested on the crown of her head.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He murmured into her hair, his hot breath tickling the tender skin of her scalp.

Claire nuzzled closer to his chest and held her eyes closed, taking a moment to appreciate the feel of his embrace.

“I...don’t know what to do anymore.” She admitted, voice muffled by the thick fabric of his shirt.

Leon ran a hand along the length of her back, rubbing small, smoothing circles along its path. Claire relaxed against him and pulled away slightly, nose flushed red as she sniffled.

“About Sherry.” Her voice was hoarse as she continued. “I...how am I supposed to take care of her?”

She turned her head to the side to look at the boxes as she confessed, “I dropped out of school.”

Leon’s eyes widened, but he said nothing. Instead, he pulled her closer.

“I’ll have to work so I can take care of her.” She reasoned, voice still wet from the tears that remained on her cheeks.

Leon brushed one away with his thumb and spoke quietly, “You know, it doesn’t have to be your responsibility.”

Claire gripped the front of his shirt tightly as she shook her head.

“I can’t just leave her somewhere, Leon. I won’t abandon her like her parents did.”

Were the nature of the conversation not so serious, Leon might have laughed. It was such a _Claire_ thing to say.

Keeping her in his hold, he shuffled the two of them back into the house. He assisted her to sit at the kitchen table and she gave him a perplexed look that Leon returned with a smile. Pulling his chair close, he sat across from her and took her hands into his.

“I didn’t want to tell you this until after Christmas.” He let out an awkward laugh as he traced the pad of his thumb along the smooth skin of the back of her hand. “I...was approached by someone a couple weeks ago while I was in town.”

Claire waited for further explanation, unsure of what he meant.

“It was a government agent.” He recognized the alarm on Claire’s face and clarified further.

“I mean, for _real_ this time.” Leon assured her with a sideways smile. “Not like Ada.”

Claire relaxed a little, but remained anxious to hear where he was going with the story.

“He...knew who I am, who Sherry is...that we were in Raccoon.”

The look of horror on Claire’s face felt like a knife lodged in his chest, but he continued.

“He said a lot of things, made some threats, but...we made a deal.”

Leon hesitated as he closed his eyes, grimacing in preparation for Claire’s reaction.

“To maintain Sherry’s freedom, I agreed to take a job.”

He watched Claire’s expressions play across her face, shifting from one of confusion to anger. Her eyebrows furrowed together and she narrowed her eyes, leaning in close to whisper harshly, “ _What_?”

Leon took her face in his hands and smiled softly.

“I...it’ll be a good thing, Claire.” He assured her, voice quivering slightly. “The money’s good and I’ll be able to take care of both of you.”

Claire felt dizzy and she struggled to string together a proper thought, “Leon, I don’t...why…?”

Without warning, he pressed a finger to her lips, stunning her into silence.

“I did it for a lot of reasons, Claire, but, most importantly, I did it because I love you.”

He moved his hand from her mouth as he whispered, “ _Both_ of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bad at the internet and social media, but I made a venue for prompt suggestions/fic requests if it suits anyone's fancy. I can now be found on [tumblr](https://irithyll-writes.tumblr.com/) I guess? If anyone knows a better site, please let me know and bear with my old, confused self until I figure it out. :')


	14. Date

Claire's hand trembled as she applied a second layer of mascara. Taking in a deep breath through her nose, she paused, hoping that the brief moment of stillness would be enough to calm her nerves. She wasn't entirely sure as to why she was feeling so incredibly anxious in that moment because it wasn't like she hadn't already made out with Leon in her childhood home. Hell, she was  _living_  with the guy already, so why was she experiencing first date jitters?

Setting the tube of mascara down on the counter, she let out a long sigh that did little to relieve the weight on her chest. The date was a result of Jill's insistence, as she and Chris were soon to depart. Jill had reasoned that she and Chris could watch Sherry so that Claire and Leon could have a night out together.

" _You won't have to worry about her while you're gone."_  Jill had stressed with a grin. " _Not even a Tyrant could take her from us."_

She smiled wryly at the recollection. If she had to endorse Sherry's care to anyone but Leon, Jill would have been her first choice. She had no doubts that Sherry would be safe under her supervision, and yet…

Claire winced as she felt her stomach seemingly tie itself into a knot. Was it really that big of a deal? Leon was a huge dork anyway, so he was bound to embarrass himself before she did...right?

With a groan, she buried her face in her hands and contemplated the contents of her closet. If Leon had been willing to accept her while covered in sewer juice and zombie viscera, surely her outfit didn't matter too much. Hell, she could have worn a potato sack and  _still_  looked better than she did in Raccoon, so why was she stressing about her stupid outfit?

"Are you excited about your  _D-A-T-E_?" Sherry asked in a singsong voice, having snuck into the room as Claire was pouting.

Claire lowered her hands from her face and forced a smile.

"It's just Leon." She insisted, wrinkling her nose at the tremor in her voice.

"Uh-huh." Sherry retorted. "Whatever you say."

She wandered over to the closet and began to rifle through its contents as she asked, "What are you going to wear?"

Claire shrugged as she stared at herself in the mirror, debating whether or not to slather more makeup on her face. She suddenly felt incredibly plain. Had they not met in the midst of the zombie apocalypse, would Leon have given her the time of day?

"Oh, come  _on._ " Sherry said with a sigh. "Don't you want to look good?"

"It's just a movie," Claire defended, "Nothing special."

Sherry glared at her from over her shoulder before turning her attention back to the closet. She continued to thumb through the assortment of clothes that hung within it, pausing as she studied each article of clothing. Eventually, she pulled out a dark red dress and held it up against her body, snickering at the way it dwarfed her tiny frame.

"Oh,  _hell_  no." Claire quickly hissed, her cheeks burning. "I haven't worn that since my sophomore year of high school. There's no way that it fits."

Sherry sighed and put it back on the rack, grumbling, "Everything else is just t-shirts and jeans."

Claire pursed her lips into a pout.

"What's wrong with t-shirts and jeans?"

Sherry crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head in disappointment.

"Even Chris has better fashion sense than you."

* * *

Leon swallowed hard in an attempt to clear the knot that formed in his throat at the sight of her. The dark wash skinny jeans she had slipped into clung enticingly to the curves of her legs and the slim cut of the heather heather grey v-neck she wore hinted at the shape of her hourglass figure. He was grateful when she pulled on her heavy leather jacket that obscured her body from view as he shifted nervously on his feet.

"Don't stay up too late." Claire warned as she kneeled in front of Sherry, loosely holding her hands in her own.

Sherry nodded, but the smirk on her face hinted at her imminent insubordination. Jill bit the inside of her cheek as she held in a grin, amused by Claire's motherly behavior, whereas Chris leaned in the doorway nearby, eyes narrowed into slits as he glared at Leon while chewing a mouthful of yet another batch of Claire's overly festive Christmas cookies.

"Don't touch my sister." He grunted despite the cookie he had shoved into his mouth. "I know where you live."

Claire shot him a dark look as Jill shook her head, reaching up to pat Chris on the back.

"There, there." She cooed. "Be nice."

Chris crossed his arms over his chest, jaw set hard as he continued to attempt to bore holes into Leon's face with his scowl. Jill glanced down at her watch and gave Leon a slight shove.

"Go on. You'll be late." She pulled open the door and gestured towards it with an open hand, ushering them out.

"Seriously, Sherry." Claire said, poking her head back in the door as she departed. "Brush your teeth before bed."

Sherry rolled her eyes as Jill moved to block the opening in the door with her body before briskly pushing it closed. Twisting the deadbolt into the locked position, she turned back towards her companions and leaned against the door with a slow shake of her head.

"She's just worried about you." Jill said warmly as she gave Sherry a sympathetic smile.

"She should be worried for  _his_  life instead." Chris huffed. "If he so much as lays a finger on her, I swear to god…"

Jill laughed softly as she gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't worry, Chris," She whispered, "I don't think he even knows  _how_  to touch a woman."

* * *

Claire couldn't help but laugh at the way the zombie's head exploded, spraying the teenage protagonist with a spray of what appeared to be strawberry syrup. The young woman on the screen let out a shrill scream as the camera panned back to the crumpled corpse on the floor and Claire snorted as she popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth.

"Did they use creamed corn to make the brains?" She asked with a judgmental tone. "How dumb. It doesn't look like that."

Leon smiled as he looked over at her, taking a moment to observe her profile in the pale light provided by both the moonlight and the projection screen. The curve of her nose and the fullness of her lips made his heart skip a beat and he could just barely make out the faint smattering of freckles interspersed across her cheeks. She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she held in another snicker, her bright eyes lighting up with amusement as she watched the events play out on the screen.

"I think you're supposed to suspend your disbelief, Claire. Remember?" He laughed, reaching over to extend his arm across the back of her seat. For a moment, he cursed himself for choosing a drive-in given the awkwardness of attempting to cuddle in a car.

"Hard to suspend your disbelief when you've  _literally_  survived the zombie apocalypse." She spoke solemnly before tilting her bag of popcorn in his direction as an offering.

With a sigh, he took a handful of popcorn and quickly threw it in his mouth. The male lead had opened fire on the horde of zombies, but he had admittedly lost interest in the film. He could smell the light perfume Claire was wearing and it had become nearly intoxicating within the cabin of his car.

"Yeah, well…" He nervously strummed his fingers against his knee. "As much as the zombie apocalypse  _sucked,_  I'm glad it happened because it led me to you."

Claire paused, hand suspended mid-air in its descent towards the popcorn. She gave Leon a sideways look before a grin made its way to her face.

"That was really cheesy." She admitted with a giggle. "Come on, Leon."

Leon smirked as he shrugged. "Cheesy, sure, but it's true."

She didn't want to acknowledge the butterflies in her stomach even as she set her popcorn in the floorboard, having suddenly lost her appetite on account of the nervousness that came over her.

"I'm glad I met you too." She whispered shyly, cheeks feeling hot.

Leon laughed as he reached over the center console to entwine his fingers with hers.

"You know, I've never…" He paused, embarrassed for what came next, "...felt this way before. About anyone."

Claire inhaled sharply, unsure of how to respond. Her heart began to race and she forced herself to look at anything  _but_  his face.

"Yeah," she breathed, "Me neither."

An awkward silence settled between them as Leon nervously played with her fingers.

"About the job." He spoke up, voice cracking. "I know it'll be hard, but…"

He let out a long sigh.

"...but I want to make it work, you know? I mean, if you're willing. I don't expect you to wait around for me, but…"

Claire felt as though her heart had leapt into her throat.

"Yeah, I…"

God, what the hell was she doing? Leon had seen her at her worst, covered in zombie bits and terrified for her life. What was there to feel nervous about? Why the hell couldn't she figure out what to say?

She looked over at him and found that he was turned towards her. He watched her with undivided attention as his blue eyes met hers from beneath the fringe of his bangs. His lips parted as though he was about to speak, but he suddenly stopped. She watched his stare drift downwards to her mouth, lingering momentarily before locking gazes with her once more.

Claire felt that familiar throbbing between her thighs and she pressed them together in an attempt to alleviate it. Her stomach felt uneasy on account of both nerves and desire and she closed her eyes, taking in a slow, deep breath in an attempt to steel herself.

"I love you, Leon." She blurted faster than her mind could process what she was saying. "And I love  _this_ —Sherry, the house, making stupid pancakes in the morning…"

She felt like she was going to vomit, but she forced a laugh anyway.

"I don't know when I became so domesticated. I mean,  _fuck_ , I'm only nineteen, but…"

Her vision began to blur from the tears that started to form as a result of the confusion of both her body and her mind.

"You feel right, Leon. All of this feels right. I want this... _all_  of this. The stupid pancakes, the dumb house, Sherry and her preteen attitude…"

She contemplated shoving her foot in her mouth, but Leon acted before she had a chance. In a swift motion, his callused hands found the sides of her face and his mouth all but crashed against hers. She gasped into his mouth and he slid closer, slipping his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck and pulling it free from the elastic that held it in a ponytail.

Claire tasted like buttered popcorn and home and he groaned at the discovery. He loved her,  _really_  loved her, and he didn't care to question how or why. It felt right and he told himself that it  _was_  right. He kissed her like his life depended on it, as though she was the last source of oxygen on the planet, and when he pulled away, Claire was gasping with flushed, swollen lips.

"But…" Her voice was hoarse as she spoke. "Sherry needs to go to school. She needs stability. She needs more than I think I can give her. Chris raised me, yeah, but I don't know how t—"

"I'll take care of it." He murmured, voice husky as he leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. "I'm serious, Claire. The job, it pays  _well_ , and the benefits are impressive. I can make it work."

She shook her head, cheeks becoming damp with tears that spilled free. "I can't just twiddle my thumbs while you work."

Leon smiled as he swept his thumb over the soft curve of her cheek, brushing away her tears. "Sherry's a tough kid. She doesn't need you to stay home all the time, Claire. You can work, go back to school,  _whatever_  you want."

Claire laughed, the sound splintered by the sob that she choked down and her own disbelief. "It's not that simple, Leon. It's easy to say these things, but…"

"We'll manage, Claire." He interjected, expression serious. "If you need more time to think about it, I understand, but I know what I want. You both mean a lot to me and, honestly, what else is left? Raccoon is gone. I have no ties holding me down."

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. If Chris could pull it off at the ripe age of eleven, surely she could follow suit at nineteen. Chris, however, had an inheritance from their parents and an aunt to reach out to, albeit an alcoholic, absentee one. What did she have?

Leon. She had Leon. Chris and Jill would certainly be too busy with their vendetta against Umbrella, but…fuck, she wanted to be a part of that  _too._  She wanted to stick it to Umbrella, but did she want it as badly as she wanted to give Sherry a home? Perhaps she was projecting, subconsciously referring back to her own childhood and using her own insecurities as fuel to ensure that Sherry had a better future.

"I just want to help, Claire."

Fuck it. Fuck Umbrella, fuck Raccoon, and fuck the G-virus. Life was all about trial and error, wasn't it? Maybe she couldn't give Sherry a private school education and spoil her with extravagant Christmases, but spaghetti from a jar and ten-year-old hand-me-downs were probably a hell of a lot less damaging than throwing her to the wolves of the foster system.

"Fuck." She breathed out. "Fuck, fuck,  _fuck_."

With her mind reeling at a speed with which she couldn't register, Claire allowed her body to take over. Her muscles shifted on their own accord, hoisting her over the opposite side of the console and directly into Leon's lap. He let out a quick breath, a quiet  _oof_  as her weight settled against his pelvis, and his cheeks burned with embarrassment as the heat between her thighs aligned with his own.

Taking his jaw in her hands, she angled his face towards his and leaned in close. With her lips just barely out of reach, she met his stare with heavily-lidded eyes and murmured, "Don't say it if you don't mean it, Kennedy."

Leon surprised himself, speaking without missing a beat, "I don't say things that I don't mean, Redfield."

Her lips found his and, despite all the death threats and hardened stares that Chris had to offer, Leon  _did_  touch Claire that night...in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay. I know I suck, but I love you all.


End file.
